Sight Unseen
by Beth Weasley
Summary: For five years, they've roamed through space, but the rest of the universe knows Riddick's still alive. And there's a new threat on the horizon... M for language, violence, and adult situations. Rewrite of 'Sight'
1. Chapter 1

Gah. Sorry there wasn't a note when I put this up Wednesday night - I had several things going on at once. This is the first of nine chapters, and probably the shortest one of the bunch. Please review and let me know what you think, if you see any errors or confusing bits, et cetera. Advance thanks to DayDreamNinja and X0xDayDreaminGirlx0X for having already reviewed this chapter! And merci tres bien to Lynx for betaing all of this stuff for me. You're a champ, man!

**Sight Unseen**

A _The Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter One**

"They are an army," said a feminine voice in my ear, one whose accent might be traced back to an area of Old Earth called Britain, "unlike any other, crusading across the stars toward a place called Underverse, their promised land, a constellation of dark, new worlds."

I found myself looking down at three roughly-finished, converging metal prongs. Something all but pulsed behind them, emitting a terrible blue-white light and the crackle of thunder. With a groan of resisting corrosion, they began to move apart as my point of view soared up and back. Each beam was attached to the top of a massive graven face.

"Necromongers, they're called." The voice continued speaking as I got further away, the images moving up and out atop a colossal pillar like some strange flower. Ships of a design I'd never seen before held stations in a ring around the tower, engines thrumming as they seemed to suck in shadows.

Suddenly, a spherical mass shot up from the monolith, trailing sparks, to hover and spin slowly. Scabrous black patches dimmed its radiance, yet the light outlined the surroundings. Crumbling buildings formed a dead cityscape beneath ominous clouds.

"And if they cannot convert you, they will kill you." Another set of cast-metal faces entered my field of vision, though one set of eyes had been left out to show a pair of real ones that gleamed cruelly. "Leading them, the Lord Marshal." He became my new focus, tormented faces burnished with gold decorating his shoulder plates. He stood on the stairs of a temple-like structure, flanked by two groups of people. To his right stood men in less ornate, dark gray armor, one with a sumptuously-dressed woman holding his elbow possessively. Opposite them, men in long black coats and silver ornamentation waited on the Lord Marshal's pleasure. My eyes lingered inexplicably on the palest and most heavily decorated one in the group. Then their leader turned with a dramatic flourish of his long, scaled cape and began climbing the stairs.

"He alone has made a pilgrimage to the gates of the Underverse and returned a different being." The cleared steps retracted as the observers filed through huge doors. When panels began sliding across the empty portico, I realized that it was actually a ship. "Stronger." The setting changed, gilded walls emphasizing the case form rising from within a pillar. The sculpted man appeared to have been stripped of his very skin before his arms had twined painfully around a post with rounded finials. "Stranger." The ghostly image of a gauntleted hand grasped the bar, followed by the real one after a second's delay. "Half alive and half… something else."

'_Something else?' Try 'some bizarre freak,' sister._

The fist shoved the handle back into its base, and the scene snapped back to the gigantic pillar. The strange mass's spin accelerated rapidly, black flecks cast away as it became a disk, then a torus, its center large enough to engulf the monolith without touching it. It slammed into the ground as I rocketed away. A deep boom accompanied the mushroom cloud of an uncontrolled nuclear explosion, buildings disintegrating all around it.

"If we are to survive, a new balance must be found." More disturbing than the explosion, the quickly-receding ground itself began to burn, great cracks splitting the planetary crust. I stopped in a distant orbit, able to see the entire hemisphere as identical blasts turned a once-thriving world into a giant cinder, only death remaining.

"In normal times, evil would be fought by good. But in times like these… well, it should be fought by another _kind_ of evil." The cosmic fires shifted to a smooth silver, a second orb appearing with the subtle lines of a shadowed and yet very familiar face. The eyes gleamed in the inky darkness of space.

'Big Evil,' some called the man. But I knew him better than anyone else, knew him as Rick… my friend, my lover. _My mate._

I came awake all at once, flinching with the horror of what I'd just seen. World-killers, changing or destroying every living thing in their path, and that woman, whoever she was, believed that _Richard B. Riddick_ was the universe's best hope of stopping them? He'd laugh in her face.

Unless they posed an immediate threat to him, me, or my adopted sister.

I didn't even consider the possibility that it had just been a strange dream; I have no such thing. I see things in my sleep, yes, but they always prove to be the truth or a possibility that the three of us could do something about. This one had felt like a message, a warning.

Rick's bulk pressed against my back, one arm holding me close as deep, even breaths ghosted across my neck. Only with me did he sleep this soundly, as though the fact that both of us were here could ward off any threat all on its own. Gradually, I relaxed against the furnace warmth of his skin and drifted back into slumber.

The familiar pink-red sky I'd only seen in my dreams spread through the darkness behind my eyelids, bringing with it the grave-covered hills all around and the dark grotto in front of me. _She_ walked out of the shadows cast by the tangled, dying trees, green eyes momentarily flashing mercury. I had no name for her, had never been able to speak in this emotion-drenched place.

"You have settled your past, last scion of House Veruna." I frowned. Had that been my birth mother's name? "But he has not. I have reached him but once, and House Riddick has always been… stubborn. It is _your_ task now, to guide him until he accepts what you both truly are." Then she paused, looking out across the desolate landscape. "_You_ must choose what the future brings, though our dead cry out for vengeance."

_No shit,_ I thought as a gust of wind wailed through the tombstones. From the moment I'd understood, as a child, that my mother had been stolen from me by a murderer, I had wanted the head of the person responsible. Preferably severed by my own hand as he or she screamed.

"But now… now it is time for you to bear the mark." Splaying her right hand over her heart, she locked gazes with me. A faint blue radiance gathered around her fingers, and then the palmful of eerie fire turned toward me. She hesitated, close enough for me to feel the crackling energy on my breast.

"This is going to hurt."

Every single muscle in my body seized up in agony as my eyes flew open. I jackknifed upright, barely managing to turn my scream into something between a growl and a whimper. Disturbing Jack's sleep, one of the few things needed by all growing teenagers, was not on my list of things to do.

_**Hurt?**__ Understatement of the decade, you bitch!_

Strong arms quickly stilled the worst of the uncontrollable spasms, holding me tight as the pain wracked my body. A heavy leg pinned both of mine to the mattress to stop the wild, thrashing kicks.

"What th' hell?" At the sound of Rick's voice, the stabs of energy began to fade, leaving me limp and gasping in his embrace. "Th' fuck was that, babe?"

"Not… sure." My voice came out on a wheeze, but then I looked down at myself and yelped. A handprint, _her_ handprint, shone on my bare skin exactly where she'd touched me in the dream. "Freak-o-Meter off the damn scales here." The convict peered over my shoulder, then lowered me to the bed so he could examine the glowing mark more closely.

"You're fuckin' tellin' me? What _happened_?"

"I'm not sure." The phrase almost turned into a sob. "Another dream with _her_, an' that's where she put her hand. God, did it hurt." I'd never felt such an intense pain, even on the two occasions when I'd been shot, and it had reduced me nearly to tears. But with incredible patience and tenderness, my partner held me until it and the light faded entirely.

"I am _not_ likin' that bitch, whoever she fuckin' thinks she is." He'd said it before and would surely say it again. The shoulder-to-toe skin contact of his embrace relaxed me further, just as he knew it would, and I reached up to run a hand over his smooth-shaven skull. His lips covered mine, all but erasing one worried thought.

_What would I do without him?_

In some ways, the five years since we three had met seemed to have flown by, yet in others it turned into an enjoyable eternity. Despite appearing to be polar opposites, Riddick and I fit together like two halves of a much greater whole. Had I believed in such a thing, I might have said we were made for each other. His tall, broad form was a wrecking ball against those foolish enough to attack us, while my petite, toned body was the dagger in their backs. He didn't bother with mincing words, saying exactly what he thought; I could make mine twist and turn as well as any seasoned politician.

Perhaps the way our strengths and weaknesses meshed was a part of our shared Furyan heritage. A vanished race that we knew little about, even after half a decade of careful, cautious searching.

Our uncanny ability to work together as if we possessed a single mind had gotten us out of scrape after hellish scrape. And, usually at my insistence, we'd pulled others through with us. Ten people had escaped two different hells because of us, and in return, we owed our lives to one of them.

The one who slept in the cabin two doors down from ours.

With a little help from a man I considered my brother in all but blood, we'd built a small but profitable express courier service with the hyper-capable freighter _Wanderers' Den_. I supplemented that income by helping solve tough cases for Meyer, Meyer, and Trent—the private law firm that had trusted the judgment of an employee enough to hire a very young, freshly degreed criminologist who'd declined the Alliance government's job offer. I did my very best to live up to their expectations and those of my immediate boss/good friend, Jamie. He did us a favor at the same time, taking care of the one other Furyan we'd found while he worked a bizarre cryo-suspension cocktail out of his system. Five years hadn't been long enough, as Marcus still moved at a ponderously slow pace when he tried to hurry.

Emerging from my memories, I hauled my ass out of the tangled sheets to join my lover in the shower. We had a pickup scheduled with a customer in the afternoon, but hadn't finalized our own plans for the rendezvous. That discussion needed to include our pilot—one of the youngest commercially-licensed pilots in circulation— and I knew one sure-fire way to rouse her in the morning.

Breakfast.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm really sorry I'm going to have to leave you guys with just this chapter for two weeks... I'm headed to Indianapolis on Tuesday for GenCon and won't be back until sometime in the afternoon/evening of the 8th. But if you're going to be there, you might bump into me - I'll probably be wearing a black one-shoulder backpack with a bunch of different chains instead of pulls on the zippers, and if you see that, my short hair, and glasses, you've probably found me. Please don't heasitate to say hi, 'cause I love talking about the Seer-verse and all its peripheral stuff, things like my version of Furya's history and why Furyans are the way they are, etc. Plus this is my big social event of the year. (Hates being cooped up in a small town in the Appalachian Mountains.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and leave me lots of reviews to read when I get home!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Two**

"Making final approach now." I tucked a short-range earbug into place as Jack's announcement came over the ship's intercom, then settled my shades and donned the headgear that went with the rest of my 'really heavy' winter wear. With my usual shipboard attire of tank top and cargo pants underneath, it made for a lot of layers, but I preferred it to being cold.

And if any planet with an atmosphere humans could breathe qualified as truly cold, UV-6 did. It wasn't the sort of place where we usually made transfers, but some things needed to stay frozen all the way to the end of their journey. Our standard contract gave us the right to inspect the cargo before it officially changed hands, and to cancel the deal without penalty if it didn't pass our acceptable criteria.

We didn't transport contraband, period. It would only invite trouble we definitely didn't need.

"You guys sure you don't want me an' th' _Den_ closer?" My sister's voice sounded worried. "Two klicks on th' kinda terrain I'm seein' out there could be tough, even for you."

"Stay outta sight with th' hatches locked 'til you get our signal. Understood?" My mate tugged my scarf up over the end of my nose with a little smile as he spoke.

"Yeah, Rick, I get it." There was definitely a pout in that response. Still, the seventeen-year-old set our ship down on the snow as gently as a feather before cycling both doors of the airlock open. Frigid wind blasted inside, and we hurried out to minimize the temperature change in our home.

"You read me, kiddo?" Healthy paranoia kept us from using names on the easily-intercepted short-range com bands. In the case of an emergency, of course, Jack and I used our pseudonyms.

"Loud an' clear, sis. Gimme a shout as soon as ya need me; I don't like not havin' th' line-of-sight, but ya said th' other side of that big outcroppin', so I'm goin'." All sealed up, the _Wanderers' Den_ kicked up a cloud of powder, then zipped away above the fingerprint-like crevasse field.

And once the ship disappeared, we waited.

My com chirped at the time specified by the client, but I saw no one and nothing besides us. They had tem more minutes before we beat feet. I started fidgeting, not fond of late customers.

The air whistling around the barbs warned me just in time, and the vicious catch-net missed by centimeters as I spun. A small gray ship shimmered into view, banking toward us so that the gunners suspended on its two arms could aim at us properly. I bolted for the crevasse field just a couple of steps behind Rick.

"We got trouble, kiddo!" No reply came through the earbug. "Kyra?" One hour and one merc had taught us a harsh lesson, though he'd died without getting a word out of her. "Answer me, Kyra!"

"I'm sorry, Kyra's out of commission for a while. Can I take a message?" The mocking male voice made my blood run cold and my legs move faster. The switch from solid ground to leaping from one ridge to the next barely slowed me.

_How the hell did they get the locks open?_

Fucking bounty hunters had set a trap for us, and we'd walked into it fat, dumb, and happy, despite our precautions.

We made a beeline for the rocks between us and the _Den_.

(Toombs)

"Linin' 'em up for ya. Port-side shot comin' up. Steady, here we go." He'd been tryin' t' track down Riddick and his two girls for five years, an' now he'd finally caught up. "Steady…" Mack already had th' younger one an' their ship, an' would make like a ghost 'til it was all over.

For a moment, both targets were clear.

"Take it! _Take it!_" Too slow. _Christ_, the idiots he had t' deal with anymore. A catch-net shot out, but its barbs only struck snow. "Take the shot!" Damn. They were faster than he'd thought, an' Riddick's bitch seemed t' know where th' webs would land th' moment th' trigger was pulled. They hit solid ground again, headed for a tall, narrow canyon.

"Shit! Toombs, we're runnin' outta road!"

"Shut up! I got it! Again!" Another net whizzed out, an' this time one of th' sharpened metal shafts caught Big Evil's calf. Th' woman skidded t' a halt, blades in her hands that looked almost, but not quite, like th' ones she'd had aboard th' _Kubla Khan_. Riddick paused t' yank th' barb out, then seemed t' look straight at Toombs before tiltin' his head toward th' dark gap in th' rocks. Then he an' his bitch darted into it an' vanished.

"Riddick…" the curly-haired merc muttered t' himself.

"I don't know, Toombs. Looks kinda tight." Tags looked over from his sling.

"Not from where I'm sittin'." He grinned. "This's th' biggest payday ever." One finger turned on th' versatile craft's exterior lights. "So throw on a fresh pair of panties. Let's get this right." He eased inside, directin' th' beams t' sweep th' walls. For several minutes, only th' sounds of th' undercutter broke th' silence.

"Three meters clearance to port, one an' a half to starboard." Th' kid kept his voice level, at least. "Got a choke point comin' up." Somethin' thumped. "What th' shit was that?"

"Tags, you got anything?" When th' experienced gunner didn't respond, Gabriel started t' worry. "Tags?" Continued silence made him turn a spotlight on th' man's position.

Th' net gun swung freely, muzzle down, an' th' harness behind it dangled. He quickly checked th' port position, but its harness had apparently gone with Grayden, shorn off near where it connected t' th' arm.

"Jesus." Th' youngest member of th' team sounded ready t' piss himself. "They just ghosted two guys, an' I never even heard 'em." Th' more experienced merc gritted his teeth. Things like this happened, especially when you hunted two of th' most dangerous people in th' known universe. "Whaddya think, Toombs? I mean, maybe we oughtta just…"

"I think you're my new gunner," he snarled. "Grab a gat, an' stay on top of 'em this time." A touch opened th' port-side hatch of th' Flattery C-19, an' th' kid shakily grabbed a small net gun before crouchin' in th' doorway. Moments later, he screamed, th' sound fadin' quickly as he fell further an' further from th' craft. Gabriel switched it into hover mode an' turned th' pilot's chair so he could get out. He froze before his ass even left th' paddin'.

"You made three mistakes." Th' voice of th' parka-clad figure crouched under th' hot-seat's lights sent shivers down his spine. He'd never actually come this close t' Riddick before, an' he seemed even bigger than th' data on him indicated.

"First, you took th' job." Th' second voice snapped his focus t' th' opened hatch. Th' broad leaned against th' jamb, arms crossed, any expression hidden by th' cold-gear on her face. "Second, you came light."

"A four-man crew for us? Fuckin' insultin'."

"Granted, your fifth boy got Kyra an' our ship, but he'll find that his hands're full with just one of 'em. But both?" Th' unholy glee in her chuckle did not sound encouragin'. She pushed off th' hull and stalked closer as th' big con did th' same, their silent approach cornerin' him in th' pilot's couch.

"But th' worst mistake you made…" Before Riddick could finish his sentence, Toombs lunged t' his left, reachin' for…

"Empty gun rack." His hand slapped smooth metal as th' pair spoke in unison.

_Damn._

"Tell me, Toombs." He was shoved into a jump seat as th' woman crouched next t' him. "How much are they offerin' for us?"

"One mil." Th' dagger that sliced through his pants an' pricked his knee made no sound at all.

"How. Much?" Gabriel would be damned if he showed it, but Big Evil's snarl terrified him.

"Okay, okay. One point five for you." He nodded in th' direction of th' larger man. "Two if I got you both, alive only."

"What slam pays one point five for _one_ con?"

"Private party." Rrrriiiip. Th' blade tore through his trousers, all th' way t' th' crotch. "Hey, hey, hey, hey! Guy, guy! That's what th' sheet said!"

"What planet." He'd _never_ admit that th' broad's hiss scared him even more than her partner's open rage.

"Helion Prime." Th' blade moved away, an' he started t' get up.

"Whoa, where you goin'? Last question." Th' bounty hunter looked up at th' man he'd been trackin'. "An' you'd better get this one right, merc. Whose ship is this?"

"Mine?"

(Eileen)

While Rick pitched the scumbag out the hatch, I leaned over the pilot's couch to check the undercutter's files. The bounty sheet came up quickly, confirming Toombs' reluctant confession. And Helion Prime could only mean one person we knew.

"Shoulda left that fuckin' imam somewhere along th' way," I groused. We'd saved his life, not just once, but at _least_ twice, and Abu repaid us with _this_. "Thought priests were supposed t' be trustworthy.

"That would be why I only trust you, Kyra, an' Cartwright." The growl in my ear sent pleasant shivers down my spine, and I leaned back into my mate's solid chest. Sometimes, like now, his paranoia was more than justified. I let him slide into the seat, then held onto the back of it as the small ship zipped toward open air. It shuddered a couple of times as rock walls tore off the extended arms.

We circled the peak three times, all of the boat's sensors active, but caught no trace of our own vessel. I snarled to myself. Most of our resources had been sunk into the _Den_ ; used to upgrade the hyper engines, equip and stock a full machine shop, keep the training room furnished with top-of-the-line exercise and simulation equipment, plus the creature comforts that turned the ship into home. At least the both of us already wore our favorite blades and a variety of lighter weapons.

"Holy man's gonna regret this," Rick rumbled. "Be th' last time he messes with our pack." We rose through the frigid atmosphere. Once he'd plotted and locked in the course for Helion Prime, my lover took the seat beside me, lacing his fingers with mine before the undercutter's lousy cryo took over.

It would take us a month to get to the desert-covered planet. I devoutly hoped that, wherever that asshole Toombs decided to take Jack—no, Kyra, we'd have to remember to use our pseudonyms—someone would have heard about it by the time we made landfall.

Otherwise, the curly-haired merc would find out how it felt to _be_ hunted.


	3. Chapter 3

Heeeeee. I'm back from GenCon, where I had an absolute blast and managed to get myself addicted to painting minis. Another sometimes-pricey hobby. Had to practically beat Lynx over the head with this once I finished typing it up last night... and there were some stupid-tired mistakes that he helped me catch. Anyway, here's the new chapter, and we should be back to the regular schedule now! Enjoy and review to let me know how I'm doing, what you like or don't like... as long as it's not flames!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Three**

Crematoria

They'd made a big mistake, locking her in her own cabin during the trip to whatever prison they'd decided on. Jack—no, Kyra, for the time being—had loaded herself for the biggest damned bears she could think of. Everywhere she could hide a weapon, she had. The brunette would have liked a pair of boots similar to her adoptive sister's but the originals had only just been finished, so she'd have to make do.

The stench inside the hangar, its tightly-closed doors, and the temperature told her that Toombs and his two little buddies had chosen Crematoria for her. It was one of the few triple-max prisons left, and Rick had never been there, though he'd heard about it.

Well, it wouldn't be a triple anymore if he'd been there. Bastard was more slippery than a greased weasel when he wanted to be.

She waited patiently while Toombs dickered with the warden over how much they would get for her. Patiently, and making sure to act like she saw nothing while she was casing the place. It had taken her a while to get the hang of doing that without moving her eyes. Typical piece-of-shit government NIMBY facility. The guards didn't appear to wash often, or shave more than twice a week. And more than a couple were severely out of shape, despite the weight bench taking up a fair section of the control room.

The three mercs left, grumbling over the mere 150,000 UDs they'd received for delivering her. They certainly wouldn't be able to sell the ship; her sister and the man the older woman considered her brother had seen to that. So they'd have to settle. The warden and his guards, from their comments, had decided to settle for something else entirely.

"She may be trouble, Boss." A heavy-set, stupid looking man with 'Petrov' stenciled on his shirt ogled her from where he'd draped himself over the barbell. "Should break her in before we hand her over to the prisoners." His Standard was as heavily accented as his body was overweight.

"Yes, good idea, Anatoli." The warden smirked.

"I call dibs," said a lanky, bald man. His fellow guards did nothing to stop him as he approached Jack. She tensed; even with her hands cuffed behind her back, she could defend herself. "Gonna have some _fun_ with you, Miss Kyra."

Right. She had to be Kyra, not Jack. Tough, ruthless… violent. With a tiny twitch, the little dagger in her wrist sheath dropped into her hand. The man came closer, leaning toward her.

Striking as swiftly as a snake, she bit the asshole's ear hard, tasting blood. The hand with the knife came partway around her side, and she twisted her body to quickly stab the man. Then three of the other guards tackled her.

"You mother-humpin' _bitch_!" The one she'd hurt staggered back, one hand covering his ear and the other clamped over a dark, wet patch on his shirt. Despite the weight pinning her to the floor, Kyra struggled to reach him again, teeth bared and a growl issuing from her throat—one that would have sounded much like her sister's, if she'd been paying enough attention to it to realize. Neither did the single lock of dark, curly hair that fell in front of her face distract her. Green eyes burned with hatred.

"You think you're some kinda animal, _suka_?" Another guard shouted his question over the commotion. Someone pushed a metal box on casters into the control room. They positioned it right in front of her, and the blade was wrenched from her grasp as a single sliding panel rose. "Get in there!" The handcuffs fell away, but instead of showing the bastards where she'd hidden any more of her weapons, the brunette scrambled inside the moment her captors stopped squashing her. The simple door slammed down behind her, leaving a few holes in the metal as the only source of light.

The cage rattled along the floor, then paused just before a chorus of howls and animal screams assaulted her ears. The cries definitely didn't come from humans, but somehow they sounded more distressed than angry. And the sounds touched something deep inside Kyra, a tiny flame nurtured by her five years with Rick and Ei—no, _Lyra_.

"Act like an animal, an' we'll slot you up like one." A chain rattled, then the end of the box banged against metal and its gate rose. She sat still; they'd have to force her to do what they wanted.

After a long pause, the sharpened ends of metal poles came through the box's vents, jabbing erratically to 'encourage' her exit. Maulsticks, according to the man who'd become a big brother to her. Nasty, hammer-like weapons favored by slam guards throughout the known universe. She twisted and turned to avoid the points, then grabbed a shaft. One sharp pull wrenched it from the man's hands, and the follow-up shove rammed the other end into something that made him yelp.

Hearing a gun being cocked, she decided she'd done enough damage for her first few hours and scuttled into the slightly larger space beyond the box's door. Bars descended quickly behind her, the metal crate moving so that the dark-skinned guard could get a padlock on the cage. She kicked, trying to force the gate open, but the lock still closed, confining her.

Kyra scooted back to lean against the rock wall as the men left. The warden and his boys probably expected her to be cowed by her temporary neighbors when they came back for her, but the noise didn't bother her. Instead, she rested her head in her hands, hair cascading over her knees.

How long could she protect herself from would-be rapists with the weapons on her person?

How long would it take Lyra and Rick to find out where she was?

The big female paced in her enclosure, her mate and half-grown cub staying out of her way as her silvery eyes carefully watched the guest now sleeping in her mixed pack's den. Once, her kind and the others caged around the new one would have stayed out of each other's way, but necessity had made them one pack. She could feel the slight connection to the young one, yet it wasn't quite right. The scents of two others clung to the coverings on the long-limbed cub's body, one calling to her and her own, the other beckoning to the other half of the pack.

As usual, though, scents made no difference to the wrong ones, which kept snarling in their pen while her pack had quieted even before the visitor fell asleep.

No, she decided, this half-grown cub would not be treated as prey when they were released into the large pit. However distant the link, this was one of _theirs_, and they'd met far too few of them since she herself was very young. Granted, some of the reckless young males—not her own offspring, of course—would probably harass the little one, but the first to actually harm her would learn why _she_ led the pack, not another.

Undercutter, en route to Helion Prime

(Riddick)

_They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep._ I shouldn't need th' mental mantra, not with my mate's hand in mine, but th' fuckin' merc ship's cryo sucks that badly.

"Brain shuts down in cryo-sleep." Th' feminine whisper _has_ t' be a figment of my imagination.

_All but th' primitive side._

"All but the primitive side."

_Th' animal side._

"All but the Furyan side." A whole damned planetary landscape unfolds in front of me: dark, tangled woods, pale reddish sky, fuckin' thickets of gravestones… all centered on a woman who looks kinda familiar. "Some of us still remember the true crime that happened here on Furya."

_So Ei—Lyra's mother wasn't just tryin' t' create sympathy with her massacre story. Prob'ly a marker for her somewhere in this mess._

"For her parents, and for yours as well… for all our dead." Th' woman shakes her head. "And once you wake—_truly_ wake—you'll remember, too."

Th' vista vanishes as if it was never there, th' Flattery C-19's half-assed cryo releasin' me as th' cockpit's radiation shields withdraw. Sunlight pours in, an' I flick my girl's shades down t' cover her eyes with one hand while I bring my own down with th' other. I slip into th' pilot's couch a second before th' comm system crackles t' life.

"Helion Prime is on Alert Condition Four." Whatever th' fuck _that_ means.

"Unrecognized craft!" A sleek fighter draws up alongside. "You need to follow me to Spaceport Six for security inspections." Great. More bullshit t' deal with. Th' very _last_ thing we need at th' moment.

"Hey! Do you hear me? Follow me to Spaceport Six, _now_!" Noddin' at th' fighter jock playin' Flight Control, I take th' ship down a few meters, then side-slip left, getting' directly under th' other vessel. A brief tug on th' control yoke brings th' two hulls together roughly, damagin' th' fighter so it has t' slow while th' pilot tries t' keep it airborne.

"Mmm." My woman unfolds a jump seat near my elbow as she hums. "Gettin' through port when all our papers're on th' _Den_ woulda been tough. Waste of time." Lyra doesn't need t' mention that every day we take is another day Kyra spends in whichever slam Toombs picked out for her.

I have t' think of 'em by their pseudonyms now; hell, I insisted that they have 'em in th' first place. Can't have their legal names associated with mine, which protects our courier service work an' th' cases Lyra looks into for MM&T. I simply can't let myself slip up.

Despite my heavily-polarized wraparounds, Helion Prime's sands reflect enough light t' make me acutely uncomfortable. My mate understands without a word passin' between us, navigatin' an' givin' me quiet directions. We eventually set down on a dune not far from th' outskirt of New Mecca. A conveniently labeled remote—mercs couldn't pour piss outta a boot without printed instructions—lets us lock down th' C-19 before we leave, an' it shimmies into th' sand t' camouflage itself. Pretty handy feature.

Donnin' th' dark cloaks Toombs had stashed in th' undercutter, we start walkin' toward th' city.

(Lyra)

We stopped at the first public directory we found so I could look up Abu al-Walid—the imam, or 'holy man,' we'd brought off that distant nightmare planet, along with the three boys under his care at the time. There'd been a certain strain between me and him from the start, which had gotten worse when it became obvious that Rick and I had paired off. But when he'd tried to force Jack to disembark with him here, I'd nearly snapped. Once I'd rescued her, the then-twelve girl had locked herself inside the cabin my mate and I had been sharing, and didn't emerge until we'd gotten into the takeoff queue.

The man had risen in the world, I noted absently as my fingers danced across the sensitive touch-panel screen. Married, and a member of the Helion Council. That made the incredibly high bounty a little less surprising. But why had the Council signed off on the deal?

Next, I scanned the previous month's news. The capture of one of 'Riddick's accomplices' had to have been a big story. And I'd guessed right; seemed that Toombs had mouthed off about it to someone. She'd been sent to Crematoria, so we needed to figure out how to get there, get in, grab Kyra, and get out. But that could be done while we were on the move.

Finally, I hunted down a back door into the local law enforcement database and activated a 'Be On the Look Out' program that Jamie had helped me encode for the _Den_. Part of it would go viral, downloading into every ship that tapped into the planetary security network. And every time one of those vessels made port, a copy of the BOLO would go into the network there, spreading it to more ships. The cycle would continue until one of two things happened: either it reached every place settled by humans, or I got into another database and entered the deactivation code.

"Done." Three strips of flimsi emerged from the directory's printer, and I pulled out the map before passing the others to Rick. Nearly hidden by the edge of his hood, one corner of his mouth twitched up. Closest I'd seen him get to a smile with anyone but our pack present and conscious.

The classical Islamic architecture in the al-Walids' neighborhood spoke of deeply religious Muslims with _very_ comfortable incomes. I doubted any of the women in those homes had a job, or left their homes without at least covering their hair. And Abu had wanted to force Jack into the same lifestyle.

She'd have run off within six months, at most, but probably closer to two.

The lockpicks hidden in my belt buckle made quick work of the imam's simple security, and we slipped inside, deliberately leaving the deadbolt unlocked. Intricately-carved shutters kept the interior dim enough for our sensitive eyes. While my partner climbed the stairs in ghost-like silence, I found a basin of water beneath them and carefully splashed a bit on my face. Then I did a quick check of the ground floor, as my mate was doing on the level above.

We'd walked into a spacious living area, scattered shelves full of books and knickknacks between low, cushion-strewn seats. One doorless archway led to a kitchen with all the bells and whistles, the tantalizing aroma of half-baked cookies coming from the oven. Through another door, I discovered a large, airy room with high-grade laundry machines, a fancy sewing setup, and shelves lining one wall with bolts of fabric in a wide variety of colors and patterns.

So he allowed his wife to do _something_ that resembled a job. If she was skilled, she probably made clothing for her neighbors. Shaking my head, I moved back into the main room as Rick came down the stairs. He ran a hand over the dark stubble that had grown in while we were in cryo, and I pointed toward the basin.

I sat on a couch, then turned and stretched out on it as I listened. Over the faint scratching sound my lover's blade made on his scalp, I could hear a shower running. That explained why I hadn't run into the missus.

The heavy front door creaked as it was opened and then closed. I tensed, tilting my head in that direction.

"Did you know all your doors were locked?" The imam froze in mid-step, eyes flicking back and forth between my now-visible face and the shadows under the stairs. Rick calmly continued shaving, rinsing the blade in the metal bowl.

"We saved your life, holy man." My arms folded as I turned to rest them across the arm of the couch, and I rested my chin on top. "At least twice. And _this_ is how you repay us?"

"Sending mercs after us?"

Abu glanced around worriedly.

"Your wife…" An evil grin showed pearly teeth, flashing in the darkness as the whites showed all around the dark-skinned man's eyes. "She's in th' shower."

"We took nine people off that crazy bitch's ship five years ago. You're the only one who didn't seem grateful for it." I rose and prowled around the sofa on silent feet. "We trusted you. Did we make a mistake, Imam?"

"There is no simple answer." His eyes begged as he lifted his arms to show that he bore no weapons. "Whatever was said was meant to give us a chance… a _fighting_ chance. Were it not for the threat of invasion, I never would have betrayed you. _I give you my word, Riddick, Ei—_" I cut him off mid-syllable with a sharp gesture.

"Do _not_ use that name for me _ever_ again. It's Lyra now… and I'm a whole new animal, not the woman you _thought_ you knew before." He flinched, taking a step back.

"Riddick!" The piping voice came from upstairs, quickly followed by the cherubic face of a caramel-skinned, curly-haired little girl. Her eyes shone in delight.

"Riddick!" Huskier and much more mature, the second exclamation heralded the appearance of a willowy woman in a red-and-gold robe, her hands wrapping a towel around her hair before reaching for the child.

"And a daughter…" I sighed inside, knowing how Rick melted for kids. The younger they were, the softer he got.

"No!" The holy man rushed up the steps to the landing, placing himself between us and his family. Not that it would have made any difference.

"Whose name would be…"

"If you have issue with me, let it be with _me_! You need not know their names."

"Ziza," the little girl responded cheerfully, heedless of her father's words. "My name is Ziza."

"Ziza." I let the two syllables all but float off my tongue, looking at my mate. She'd wrapped him around her finger already.

"Cute kid." Abu didn't appear to notice that Rick meant it seriously.

"Did you _really_ kill monsters? The ones that were gonna hurt my father?" My glare burned into the cleric, and he shrugged uncomfortably.

"Such are our bedtime stories."

"Really. You consider those _fiascoes_ appropriate tales for a—" I tried to judge her age, but guessed high, just in case. "—a four-year-old?"

"She cannot seem to get enough of them," the wife snapped. It sounded like an ongoing argument with her spouse. "Go, Ziza." She pushed the kid further down the hall. "Go on."

Despite her mother's efforts to keep her away, Ziza spent much of the afternoon with my lover. What they did couldn't quite be called playing, but it was the closest I'd seen him get to it outside of our bedroom. Speaking of which, I was starting to get a bit of an itch, but we had more important things to deal with at the moment.

The little girl was sent to bed shortly before the sun set, but I knew she slipped past her mother, gravitating toward Rick like a small, frizzy-haired moon to a planet. To me, she was clearly visible on the other side of the fretwork wall that defined one side of the upstairs library. I scowled to myself as the last visible rays from Helion itself faded from the sky, leaning against a column on the balcony of the room.

"So who do we hafta kill t' get this payday off our heads?" Abu didn't seem to hear Rick as he paced around the room. Every time he neared the balcony, he would stare at the appallingly large—or close—comet that shone far brighter than the stars.

"It is said that the comet always precedes them, these world-enders." I blinked, suddenly worried that this was somehow related to the dream I'd had about those 'Necromongers.' "The Coalsack planets are gone. Eight million settlers missing. The entire Aquilan System is gone, too."

_Fuck. Dammit, Shazza, you, Zeke, Rob, and Sean had better not be among the missing, or heads will roll._

"Helion Prime shares its sunlight with all worlds nearby." The imam waved toward a massive solar collector and the shaft of light extending from its crystalline peak. "If we fall, they fall. And after that…" Prayer beads clicked through his fingers. "My God, how do I save my family?"

If I hadn't been so worried about Kyra and what she might be facing in Crematoria, I might have said something about being smart and running. But the al-Walids' problem was rather far from my mind. We'd taught my sister how to get out of most of the corners a girl could get backed into while in a prison, but had we covered them all? Or had something we'd never even considered taken her from me forever?

"Have you heard _anything_ I've said?" I gave Abu a sharp glance.

"You said it's all circlin' th' drain." Rick slouched in an armchair, his back to the eavesdropping child. And he sounded as though mold cultures would interest him more than the current topic.

"Th' whole universe, right?" I added.

"That's right." My mate gently pushed the door beside him closed. His eyes gleamed silver in the dark corner.

"Had t' happen sometime." I ignored the holy man's irritated muttering as three figures in hooded robes entered the plaza below. Mrs. Al-Walid met them at the door, exchanging only a few words with one of them before stepping aside.

They entered the library calmly, pulling back their wide cowls as they lined up in front of Abu. Tighter hoods covered their heads, with matching scarves hiding their faces from the nose down.

"The one you want is now here." Rick ignored the older man's words, pulling the facial covering off the short, stocky man on his end of the line, while I did the same to the lean figure closest to me. The one in the center immediately removed his own scarf, and I stepped back to regard them all coolly.

Identical dark brown clothing, loosely cut, was visible beneath the lightweight cloaks. Opalescent stone rings, about a centimeter thick and five in diameter, hung near the center of their chests on dark cords. None of it would really make them stand out in a crowd.

The candles on the balcony's railing flickered in a wind I didn't feel, and reflex snapped my left arm out, the dagger I called Sinistra laying against my forearm with her sharp edge out. My lover reacted similarly, right hand holding a swingblade just above my arm. A woman materialized just short of the weapons, the light scarf around her hair and throat barely brushing the metal.

Her dress shimmered with little sparkles on its snow-white fabric. The lines etching her face and her silver hair suggested that she'd seen many years, but I knew very well how looks could deceive.

"And whose throat is this?" The rumbled question made Abu step forward hastily, but the next words didn't come from him.

"If you cut my throat, I'll not be able to rescind the offer that brought you here." Her words were clipped short by irritation, but I recognized the voice from my dream. "Nor tell you why it's so vital that you did come."

"Th' blades come off when th' bounty comes off." Rick's snarl made even the strangers flinch.

"This is Aereon, an envoy from the Elemental race. She means you no harm!" Glaring at the imam took enough of my attention off the woman for her to get away. Her shape blurred, sweeping around to solidify next to the short guy.

"There are very few of us who have met a Necromonger and lived, unconverted, to speak of it." Ice blue eyes focused a teacher's glare on us. "So when I choose to speak of it, _you_ should choose to listen."

"Necromonger." My mate prowled around the group, movements smooth and predatory.

"Army headed for some sort of 'Underverse,'" I added, stalking in the opposite direction. "Got a weird-ass Lord Marshal, lay waste t' whole planets, yeah?" She nodded slightly, a hint of confused speculation in her gaze.

"It is the name that will convert or kill every last human life, unless the universe can rebalance itself."

"Maybe you should pretend like you're talkin' t' someone educated in th' penal system." I stifled a snigger as the largest person in the room bared his teeth in a mock grin. "In fact, don't pretend."

"Balance is everything to Elementals." Aereon raised her hands, palms up, as though weighing something. "Water to fire. Earth to air. We have thirty-three different words for it." Her hands dropped. "But now we only have time to speak of the balance of opposites."

"There is a story, Riddick," Abu interrupted. "One of young male Furyans, strangled at birth… strangled with their own cords. When Aereon told this story to the Helion leaders, I told her of you."

"Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum," I spat. His slight flinch told me he understood the Latin sentence, but then he just shrugged a bit.

"What do you know of your early years?"

"Do you remember your homeworld?"

"Where it was?" Rick's eyes bounced from one questioner to the next.

"Have you met any others? Others like yourself?" With a derisive snort, I raised my hand and twiddled the fingers at the Elemental.

"Sister, they didn't know what t' do with just _one_ of me." He moved to my side, putting a familiarly possessive arm around my waist. "They've had a helluva time tryin' t' catch _two_ of us."

"And how, child, do _you_ know so much about Necromongers?"

"One, I haven't been a child for fourteen years. Two, I've never had what most people think of as dreams. They're always true, or somethin' I c'n affect." I scowled at the woman even as the hand on my hip pulled me back against a warm, sculpted chest.

"An' there's someone you want us t' kill."

"Open up in there!" someone shouted, pounding on the house's front door. A moment later, Abu's wife rushed into the library.

"They are searching houses!" An accusing glare was aimed at me and my partner. "They look for people who came here today. They think they might be spies!"

"Lajjun!" The imam turned to us briefly. "I will send them away. Only wait one moment, please." We'd already started moving toward the far end of the balcony, where we could easily reach the roof. "Will you wait one minute to save worlds?"

"_Not our fight_," Rick growled even as Abu and the other three men left the room. The Elemental blurred into invisibility as I watched men in the uniform of the Helion Guard propel Lajjun and Ziza into the street with unnecessary roughness. Aereon's three henchmen quickly followed.

"You don't understand!" I heard one of them cry. "They can help us!" The candles around the room began to go out, one by one, until only four remained. I suspected that Aereon had done it with her Elemental abilities.

The library doors burst open, allowing between eight and a dozen soldiers into the darkened room. I glanced at them out of the corner of my eye, raising my hands above one of the remaining pairs of candles. And when I spoke, my voice blended flawlessly with my lover's.

"You're not afraid of th' dark, are you?" Our palms descended to snuff out the last of the light, and the guardsmen panicked. Muzzle flashes from unaimed bursts of fire caused a strobing effect.

I didn't particularly want to kill them—they were only doing their duty, albeit under orders that had completely missed the truth—but they were as determined as the mercs we'd had to put down in the past. Nothing short of death would stop them. Our night-sight advantage made it a short fight, and we stepped out of the wrecked library to find a uniformed kid holding Abu at knifepoint. He shook like a leaf, and the moment I flicked my hand in a shooing motion, he dropped the blade and fled.

"So you will leave us to our fate?" the holy man asked as we passed him on the stairs.

The crowd that had gathered in the plaza didn't even murmur when we emerged from behind the half-smashed door.

"Riddick? Lyra?" I turned to meet a pair of wide, hazel eyes. "Are you gonna stop the new monsters now?"

My heart twisted in my chest. She saw us as heroes—strange, dark ones, but heroes nonetheless—and a part of me couldn't tell her the truth, that I would avoid these Necromongers as much as I could. But I couldn't bring myself to lie to her, either. Slowly, I pulled the hood of my purloined cloak over my head. Then I turned and walked away, the big convict's arm lightly circling my waist.

Basilica, approaching Helion Prime

"Niklas." The dulcet voice had invaded his sleep again. "Niklas, they need your help." After all he'd done in the past decades, he deserved nothing but scorn from her. "Niklas Agnar, I am _speaking_ to you."

Uh-oh. It sounded like she was getting upset with him, so he'd better listen. Unpleasant consequences awaited him if he didn't.

"You served their parents, Niklas. He looks just like his father, and her mother was the one to warn you. They will need your help _today_."

His soul sighed in relief. Lady Veruna had been visibly pregnant the last time he'd seen her, when she told him to hide among the normal humans. Thank the Lady, she'd borne her daughter before Zhylaw's hunters had caught up to her. That girl-child—no, she'd be a woman, after so many years—might be the only Alpha female left in the known universe.

"She was right about her daughter's future mate." The surprise nearly jolted him out of sleep. Most who had worked with the Pack Council knew that the Seer had declared that her child and the one carried by her best friend would bond. Which meant that the Riddick heir had somehow gotten past the Lord Marshal. Hope for his people, his _true_ people, blossomed in his heart. House Riddick had led the race frequently and well over the centuries, and if the young Veruna had even half her mother's Sight, they had to be a formidable pair.

"Help them, Niklas." The voice faded on his name. A name that no one else in the fleet knew. Some used the appellation he'd claimed when he was 'converted,' hiding his heritage under 'Nicholas Arthur.'

But most simply addressed him with the title of the position he'd attained: Chief Purifier.

New Mecca, Helion Prime

Not far from the al-Walid's house, we moved from the streets to the rooftops. Rick led the way toward the desert, both of us jumping any gaps that got in the way. We had the information we needed to retrieve Kyra, and no desire to get caught up in a war.

Suddenly, the planet's surface-to-air defenses started chattering, the bright flames from each missile streaking across the sky. People flooded the streets below, surging toward some common destination. The invasion had already begun.

Then a mighty impact threw me off my feet, barely able to reach my beloved's hand. He twisted in midair to pull me close, and we landed hard, rolling to disperse the kinetic energy of our fall. A brief check for injuries only found a small scrape on my elbow.

The lights around us went out abruptly. Had a master fuse in the energy grid blown? More distant glows vanished, and I raised my shades to look around in the darkness.

"Oh, fuck," I breathed. Like a massive spear, a towering structure had crushed several blocks, and rounded objects along its sides began to move. At the top, I could just make out the shape of a jaw.

"Necros?"

"Yeah."

"Bastards."

The comet didn't _precede_ a Necromonger invasion, it _was_ the invasion. And, given the oddly-shaped fighter craft now separating from the pillar, running the rooftops left us too exposed to their fire. The streets had nearly emptied, save for stragglers and those injured too badly to move, thanks to the stampede. I led the way down carefully so we could wind through the man-made warren, still aiming for the desert and the undercutter buried there.

"Flight leaders, get all squads off the ground, _now_! We have heavy inbound!" I saw shapes dart out of the elevated hangars above the spaceport landing field. Explosions peppered the night sky as craft began to die.

Somehow, we managed to bump into al-Walid in an abandoned marketplace.

"You followin' us?" Suspicion added an extra bite to my voice as the imam, Rick, and I ducked into one of the buildings. Quick-marching footsteps echoed from at least two of the avenues leading into the square.

"Lajjun and Ziza!" The dark-skinned man tried to go back outside, and my mate easily hauled him away from the thin curtains that veiled the nearest archway.

"When it's over."

"Let me go, I _must_ get to my family!" Abu hissed. This time, both of us answered.

"_When it's over_." Two groups of soldiers audibly ran into each other outside our temporary hiding place. Guns chattered, juxtaposed against an odd 'whomp' noise. Cautiously peering around the stonework, I saw about fifty Helion militia and a score of troops in armor similar to that of the Necromongers in my dream. Their guns were creating the strange sounds, pulses of bluish-purple light flying at the native troops and quite obviously killing them. But the Helion men were cutting them down at least as quickly.

Then I noticed the single Necromonger without a weapon. Instead, he bore a staff with a grip in the middle and a bulging top. As his comrades fell, he raised the bar and slammed its lower end into the cobblestone plaza. The bullets began hitting him as he twisted the grip, and then his dead body's mass pulled it down.

"Shit!" As soon as I saw the tiny blue-white star pop up from the top, I ducked back behind the wall. The explosion sent debris flying through the gauzy curtains. Silence reigned for a moment afterwards.

"We borrowed a ship." Rick spoke quietly. "If ya don't mind ridin' with a pair of fugitives."

"I thank you, but I must get my family across the river." Obviously, the holy man wanted as little to do with us as possible. "God willing, there is still a shelter I can get them—"

"I'm sure God has his tricks, but gettin' outta places no one else can?" The bass voice overrode Abu's tenor. "That's one of mine." More feet tromped past, and the priest nodded jerkily.

"Let's get your family." I would do this for little Ziza, not her father. It took but a moment to collect her and her mother before resuming our trek. Cautiously running down streets, checking corners, slipping out of sight when we heard troops. One group almost caught us in an alley barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and we dashed forward into a slightly more open space with a recessed doorway on either side. My lover and I dove left, the al-Walids going right.

A squad of the invaders trotted by, leaving four of their number in their wake. Two were clearly soldiers, one wearing a mélange of armor that covered little more than half his body. His cuirass was deeply scarred, with a knife embedded between one shoulder and his spine. The other notable member of the group wore something like an old-fashioned diving mask, its twisted features illuminated by a blue glow as it stood hunched over. A cable had been plugged in between the creature's shoulders, leading to a handheld viewer in the possession of a normal-looking Necromonger.

The masked thing looked around the tiny plaza, clicking quietly. As its gaze found a Helion soldier slumped against a wall, the sound grew both louder and more rapid. I saw the injured man's hand twitch around his gun before the fourth Necro raised his weapon. With a 'whomp' and a spasm, the man died.

Did that ruin of a person see in BTUs, or infrared, or something similar?

The mask swiveled further as the ordinary soldier moved out, probably to catch up to his comrades. The officer-type in the battered armor remained, an oddly-shaped axe resting on his shoulder. Then the creature focused on the other alcove, its clicks increasing again. I drew a stiletto from a leg sheath, tensing to attack either the officer or the handler.

"Hai!" With a shout, the imam burst out of his temporary refuge, long shirt flaring as he ran back the way we'd come. The remaining Necromonger soldier turned to pursue him, the masked thing and its controller still watching the alcove.

I waited for a slow count of five, then leaped forward. My slim blade slid between vertebrae, cleanly severing the man's spine with a minimum of mess. Rick took a more hands-on approach, savagely twisting the creature's head until its neck snapped with an audible crunch. I nodded at him, then turned to Lajjun as he left. She'd firmly pressed Ziza's face into her skirt, attempting to shield her from the violence.

"Go t' ground," I told her. "Somewhere they've already cleared. An' keep your heads down."

"Why isn't Jack with you?" I looked at the little girl with a sad smile.

"Bad people took her away. But we're gonna get her back, I promise." Inclining my head to the both of them, I took off after my mate.

(Riddick)

No two ways about it, th' damn holy man c'n pour on th' speed, for a soft civilian. But it ain't enough, 'cause th' Necro's keepin' up easily. So do I, stayin' outta th' weirdo's sight. At times, I hafta give th' soldier as much as a fifteen-meter lead.

I start climbin' a set of rungs they've already scaled when I hear th' chase come t' an end.

"There will be an afterlife for me. Will there be one for you?"

_Damn idealistic fuckin' pacifist._ I move as fast as I can, but th' struggle's much too brief. A wet 'thump' echoes past th' portcullis next t' th' ladder, followed a moment later by th' impact of heavy boots on th' stone pavers.

I swing over th' wall's capstones an' pause, hearin' my woman catch up. A few small pools of blood dot th' overpass, th' priest's talisman layin' among 'em. Lyra grabs th' pendant an' chain when she sees 'em, then looks over th' other wall.

An oddly peaceful expression's on al-Walid's face as th' cobbles under an' around him're painted with a spreadin' layer of scarlet. His hips an' legs face one way, his torso th' other, broken glasses more than a meter away. For a change, I hope th' man was dead 'fore th' Necromonger threw him off th' bridge.

"He pays," my lover snarls. I wrap my hand around th' more delicate one holdin' th' talisman.

She doesn't like when people fuck up somethin' she's tryin' t' do. Imam's dead now… an' soon, someone else's gonna die for that.


	4. Chapter 4

*lower lip quivers* No reviews last chapter? Nobody missed me? *sniffle* Gah, OK, it's getting close to my bedtime. When I did the Purifier's speech for this chapter, I took almost directly from the movie script, and not the book... which has some really strange, elaborate additions. So, anyways, enjoy, and let me know what you think!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Four**

Morning came, and Rick and I allowed the Necromongers to herd us into a large, open-air amphitheater with much of New Mecca's remaining population. It seemed like our best chance to find al-Walid's murderer, and I doubted that even the large complement of soldiers could keep us from leaving when we wanted to. Besides, the old adage of 'know thy enemy' definitely applied, if these people were involved, as Aereon had implied, in the massacre that had robbed us of our birthright and our birth families.

A procession of the invaders entered, armored men with gold-traced details gleaming in the sun, some with women on their arms who wore long, close-fitted dresses of scaly-looking fabric. Then black-coated, sliver-ornamented Necromongers followed, very similar to the ones in my dream. And finally, behind them all, came the Lord Marshal in his elaborate, grisly armor.

A pale man stepped forward, metal gleaming on every finger, both shoulders, around his throat, and from the large ribbed 'cap' he wore. A hush descended upon the crowd. I thought he looked like the one I'd taken note of in my dream.

"In this 'Verse, life is antagonistic to the natural state." His voice rang across the amphitheater. "Here, humans, in all their various races, are a spontaneous outbreak, an unguided mistake." I felt an eyebrow try to rise as the natives muttered uneasily. "Our purpose is to correct that mistake. Because there is another 'Verse, a 'Verse where life is welcomed and cherished. A ravishing, ever-new place called Underverse. But the road to that 'Verse crosses the Threshold."

"Threshold! Take us to the Threshold!" The unexpected chant from the Necromonger soldiers caused many to flinch. Personally, I found such fanaticism nauseating.

"What you call… death," the Lord Marshal added smugly.

"So it is _this_ 'Verse that must be cleansed of life, that Underverse can populate and prosper." Irrationally, I wanted to grab the man and give him a good, firm shake. The crowd grew restless, with an edge of anger.

This could easily turn ugly.

(Niklas)

Every time he gave the damn speech, he wanted to wash his mouth out with bleach. Niklas didn't believe a single word of it, yet he had to sound sincere, lest Zhylaw grew suspicious. The tingling of the mark on his chest made the task more difficult, half-distracting him.

The young Alphas were nearby. How much closer, he couldn't tell, but their sheer dominance sounded a siren call to the Omega in him. After so many years of dormancy, the force of that part of himself shocked him.

Even without the Lady's order, he would have helped them in any way he could.

"Look around you. Every Necromonger in this hall, every one of the Legion Vast that swept aside your defenses in just one night, was once like you." The Lord Marshal's condescension stuck in his craw, and he realized he'd had to take it too long. "Fought as feebly as you. Every Necromonger that lives today is a convert."

_Not quite._ Niklas barely kept the smirk evoked by the thought from showing on his face.

"There'll be no conversions here!"

He sighed, figuratively putting his nose back to the grindstone.

(Lyra)

"We all began as something else! It was hard for me to accept, too, when I first heard these words." Something about the pale man's assertion seemed… off, though I couldn't say how. "But I changed, I let them take away my pain…"

"You betrayed your faith!" That came from Aereon's short, stout henchman.

"Just as you will change when you realize that the Threshold to the Underverse will be crossed only by those who have embraced the Necromonger faith." I scowled, knowing that the ability to feel pain—which conversion apparently eliminated—_proved_ that you were truly _alive_, whether you liked the sensation or not. "For those of you who will, right now, drop to your knees and ask to be purified."

To their credit, not a single New Meccan gave in so soon.

"We will not renounce our faith!"

"No one here will do what you ask!" A red-haired man descended along a stepped aisle, headed for the building's center. "It is _unthinkable_! This is a world of many peoples, many religions." In fact, it amazed me that the polyglot citizens coexisted so peacefully. "And we simply cannot, and _will_ not, be converted!" He got close to the slim Necromonger, and then the Lord Marshal strode toward him.

"Then I'll take your soul." As he growled at the man, ghostly images of his arms sank into the protester's midriff. A colorless, transparent version of the man pulled free as the senior-most person in the strangers' fleet walked by, the victim's body turning to look on it as he shook.

One yank dispersed the spectral form like mist in sunlight, and its physical counterpart fell. Dead, and not a single mark on him.

"Join him, or join me." The demonstration worked in the Necromongers' favor. One by one, every New Meccan sank to their knees. But my mate and I stood firm, shoulder to shoulder on the highest tier.

And armored man strode toward us, the small skull on his helmet flashing gold.

"This is your one chance," he told us in a voice like silk-wrapped steel. "Take the Lord Marshal's offer and bow." I barked a laugh that seemed to surprise him.

"We bow to no man." Rick's statement generated a ripple of murmurs. The Necro removed his helm, revealing a handsome, yet cold and bloodlessly pale face. The sides of his scalp had been shorn, leaving a thick stripe of black hair at the top and back.

"He is not a man." I cocked an eyebrow, arms folded over my breasts. "He's the holy Half-Dead who has seen the Underverse."

"Look, we're not with everyone here." I waved my hand at the cowed crowd. Then my lover perked up from his usual 'you bore me' stance.

"But I _will _take a piece of him." He pointed, and my eyes followed. The officer in the scarred armor had arrived, now bearing two axes. The man in front of us smirked.

"A piece you will have." A small hand motion brought the bastard toward us, along with some other soldiers. I palmed a broad, double-edged blade as the spares closed in on me.

We both moved in the same instant, letting the cloaks fall.

(Niklas)

He watched the small knot of activity as Irgun crossed the amphitheater, quickly realizing that the Alphas, of course, were having none of the conversion talk. The confrontation began with the young Veruna—he doubted she knew the name of her own House—drawing first blood, slashing one reaching arm from shoulder to wrist, under the edge of the armor on it. Nearly black blood gushed from the wound.

Young Riddick leaned back to avoid Irgun's horizontal double swing. Oh, yes, he displayed the distinct phenotypes of his line. The veteran Necromonger tried to get him with a diagonal slash, only to have the young man roll forward, popping to his feet just behind him. A strong yank wrenched out the ornate dagger stuck in the captain's armor. Riddick dodged another swing, now face-to-face with his foe. Only a handful of centimeters separating them, the blade struck beneath the soldier's breastplate three times.

Given a shove by the Furyan male, the corpse rolled down the stairs, the fatal weapon still lodged in its ribs. At the same time, the young Veruna backed away from another soldier now bleeding out. She bent to retrieve one of the tattered shrouds they'd worn, cleaning the blade and then dropping the cloth as the dagger vanished into some hidden sheath. As one, they turned to leave.

"Stop them!" Niklas' heart jumped into his throat. Zhylaw couldn't be allowed to find out who and what they were! But a wall of soldiers formed between them and an arched exit.

The Lord Marshal bent over Irgun's body, planting a boot against the gouged cuirass and pulling the pierce-work knife out with a grunt. Then he climbed the stairs to face the Alphas.

"Irgun. One of my best."

"If you say so," the young man replied as he glanced at the body. Even his laconic voice sounded like his father, who'd been Chief Alpha of the Pack Council for a decade before his death during the massacre. Then Zhylaw held out the dagger, laid across his armored palm.

"What do you think of this blade?" It was snatched up quickly, then spun on and around Riddick's larger hand.

"Back end's heavy," the young woman remarked. She'd stepped close to her mate, probably enough for their bodies to touch. Pairs who hadn't made their mating public knowledge had done the same sort of thing on Furya.

"Half gram heavy." The male tried to hand the knife back, but the Lord Marshal's fist wrapped around his.

"In our faith, you keep what you kill." Many of the nearest soldiers drew surprised breaths.

He should have been expecting that, actually. Had the pair known anything about Necromonger rank symbols, the young Riddick might have been tempted by the offer implicit in those words. Niklas had never seen someone newly converted jump rank all the way to senior captain on the spot, let alone someone who had yet to even request purification. And a woman's status in Necromonger society depended on her man's position. A brief, strained pause drew him closer to the three.

"Are you familiar to me?" From his new vantage point, the Purifier could see Zhylaw's hand shaking as he tried to force the stony-faced young man into accepting the knife. "Have we met on some distant field?"

_Not unless the place where you killed his mother and tried—and __**failed**__— to kill him counts._

"You'd think I'd remember." Riddick still sounded utterly relaxed and unfazed.

"You'd think I would, too." The Lord Marshal released his hand and stepped back. Then he glanced at the young Veruna's handiwork. "Impressive, for a female." She curled her lip at him as the Necromonger turned away. "Take them before the Quasi-Deads."

Oh, this situation just kept getting worse.

(Lyra)

The soldiers who had blocked our escape stepped closer, some lifting oddly designed, bulky pistols. Automatically, I turned to put my back against Rick's hands resting on the hilts of Dextra and Sinistra. Whatever 'Quasi-Deads' meant, I was sure it wasn't good for us; 'quasi-legal' was dangerous enough.

"Perhaps the breeders would do it, if somebody just _asked_ them." Out the corner of my eye, I saw a woman with coffee-colored skin slip through the crowd of Necromongers and put a hand on top of the gun held by the man who'd first spoken to us. Then she touched my mate's arm, and I growled. "It is a rare honor, a visit inside Necropolis." Her voice dripped false honey, and I wondered if she'd bleed as black as the men I'd just killed. "Let me show you the way."

"Ain't been that long." His arm moved away from her fingers to rest against my arm, appeasing the beast inside me. "Your web ain't catchin' _me_." The other woman flashed a poison smile and took the black-haired officer's elbow.

Encircled by soldiers, we had no choice but to follow the pair to the largest ship that had landed in the vicinity of the amphitheater. The wide, dusty promenade was lined with towering vessels, each with a massive face staring down at us. And as we neared our destination, I recognized the entrance from my dream.

The doors closed behind us with a boom, cutting off a great deal of light. After a shared glance and a tiny shrug from Rick, I lifted my shades. The snaky bitch peered up at the silvery gleam of his eyes as they were revealed.

"Beautiful eyes," she murmured. But before I could strike the damned would-be poacher, the pale Necromonger who'd spoken to the crowd appeared. He firmly moved her away, placing himself between her and my lover.

"Come," she ordered, raising her chin. I gritted my teeth, hating being treated like a fucking _dog_. "The last six Lord Marshals have called this home. Magnificent, isn't it?"

I didn't know about 'magnificent,' but 'monumental' sure fit the bill. Humanoid statues seemed to be a part of every structure, with colossi supporting upper levels. Every pose glorified torment and pain. A vessel of some sort crossed the gap high above, with the odd visuals and sounds I'd noticed in the vision more than a month before.

"I might have gone a different way." The backs of our hands brushed as our 'escort' dispersed.

"True of us all."

What appeared to be a large window caught my attention, and I meandered in its direction. On the other side of the glass, a seemingly endless line of people in close-fitting jumpsuits hung from well-designed restraints and harnesses. The framework supported them while a pair of large spikes pressed into either side of their necks. I shivered.

"Converts, receiving the mark of the Necromonger." The slim blond glided toward me, hands clasped at the small of his back. "They learn how one pain can lessen another."

_That… makes absolutely __**no**__ sense._ But I didn't argue with his statement. The Necromonger led us around a dais which held a throne bracketed by twisting, blade-studded cones. A pair of gold-burnished pierce-work doors opened, the man's pointed glare keeping the woman outside. His brisk instructions positioned Rick in the center of a raised pad, and as he left, our eyes locked. The skin at the outer corners of his eyes crinkled slightly in the subtlest smile I'd ever seen, even more than my partner's. Before I could do more than blink, the doors closed behind him.

I looked around the hexagonal room, noting the carved, arched panels on each free wall and the gaps between them and the surrounding surfaces. The pad, too, was sectioned into six teardrop shapes, glowing a faint purple. I glanced at the panels again, warily.

Then the pale man lifted a switch just outside the doors. The platform's luminescence brightened with a zooming noise, and the intricate blade held loosely in my lover's hand dropped abruptly. He followed a moment later, as though hit with several times the normal force of gravity. Catching himself with one knee up and both hands braced against the pad, he stared at me in pure startlement.

"A new one." My head whipped around as I tried to locate the voice and its stereo effect. "You've brought us a new one." Satisfaction and anticipation tinged the speaker's words, and the carved panels began tilting into the room. Pods, not panels, each holding a writhing, shrouded form and two suspended bowls of black fluid.

The tips of the pods touched the platform and stopped, leaving me trapped in front of the door.

"Making entry." The black liquid rippled with every word. "This won't take long." Rick flinched, a pained grunt forced out of him as my worry escalated. "We've entered his neo-cortex."

_Neo— They're rooting around in his __**brain**__?_

"Ahhh, the Riddick."

"Regress." I looked up, finding the Lord Marshal standing in a gallery overhead. The poacher and her chew toy had made their way up there, too.

"Scanning fresh memories… Thoughts of someone called Lyra." Ghostly echoes of my own voice teased my ears. "Thoughts of Kyra." Now my adopted sister joined the whispers. "And now we find thoughts of an Elemental…"

"The one race that would slow the spread of Necromongers." This was bizarre; Aereon hadn't said anything like that to us. "Furyans."

"Furyans." My mouth went dry as the things—probably the 'Quasi-Deads' the head bastard had spoken of—echoed the word.

"Where does he come from?" The Lord Marshal began to pace as he demanded answers. "_Who_ are his people? These are the things I _need_ to know!"

"We find energy…"

"You must settle your past." The woman from my dreams must have appeared to my mate at some point, for these creatures to find her voice in his mind.

_Oh, fuck._ I tensed, waiting for the shit to hit the fan.

"We find Furyan energy. He's Furyan… Furyan… Furyan survivor!"

"Look at our world, at the graves of those who didn't escape thirty years ago." Suddenly, I could see the woman, standing among the headstones under a pink-red sky. "There is no future until we settle our past… for all of us who bear the mark."

"Kill the Furyan!" One of the glass bowls of black fluid shattered, its contents splashing onto the pod and floor beneath it. The faces in the gallery vanished, replaced by armed and armored soldiers ready to jump down on us. "Kill the Riddick!"

"Kill the Riddick," the leader of the Necromongers commanded. His minions went on the attack. But so did I.

The first Necromonger to enter the fray had the abysmal luck to land right in front of me. Adrenaline pumping, I kicked his knee, my steel-toed boot shattering the joint. He had barely begun falling before I wrenched his head around and snapped his neck like a twig. A flash of silver briefly drew my eyes to the door.

The blond man's gaze met mine again. He grinned openly and winked, then turned off the gravitic pad. As the things, the Quasi-Deads, chanted their demand for Rick's life and more bowls broke, the slim Necromonger vanished from sight.

Surging to his feet with a roar, my beloved began showing the Necros just why people feared his name. A soldier found himself slung across broad shoulders, the panicked fire from his own gun mowing down his comrades. Then, just as easily, Rick tore the weapon from his hand and threw him to the floor head first. I heard vertebrae crunch, and the man didn't move again.

I'd dealt with two more assailants in the meantime, barely even paying attention to dispatching them. The pods began to rise, and I scrambled over one to get out of the room that might otherwise have become a death trap. A half-dozen throwing knives—sharp but cheap, as we could fabricate them easily in the _Den_'s machine shop—kept the Necromonger warriors off my lover's back long enough for him to join me.

Drably-attired men and women nearby in the room behind the Quasi-Deads scattered. Not knowing quite which way to go, we headed into the bowels of Necropolis at a run.


	5. Chapter 5

Another chapter with no reviews? T_T Well, this week you'll be getting a bit of Vaako, along with Niklas and Eileen/Lyra. I'm having a few issues with my email, but I'll be checking the page on a daily basis, as usual, so please please please review and let me know somebody's still reading this?

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Five**

By the time we managed to find our way out of the enormous Necromonger ship, dusk had fallen, bathing New Mecca in scarlet light. We took to the streets, hoping to lose our pursuers in the warren of paths. But within ten minutes, a loud whumping dashed those hopes.

We couldn't possibly outrun a ship.

Emerging from a narrow roadway into a very large plaza, I broke into an all-out sprint. Rick stayed close, almost on my heels, as I looked at the buildings ahead. We needed somewhere to fort up.

_**BOOM.**_

_**BOOM.**_

_**BOOM.**_

Metal groaned, and I looked back over my shoulder. The prow of the lozenge-shaped Necromonger vessel plowed into the cobblestones, and the shockwave made me put out a hand to keep from falling. Momentum let me just brush the ground with my fingertips, only to backpedal as the ship flew overhead, upside-down and backwards. A block of shops halted it, bursting into flame.

Six people stepped out of the shadows, warily surrounding us. One carried the distinct shape of a multi-shot, portable SAM launcher. And another, cloaked, moved closer.

"Lemme guess, a six-man crew this time," my lover drawled.

"Coupla things ya coulda done better." The man pushed his hood back, revealing an unfortunately familiar face. "First, trash th' locator beacon on my ship—th' one ya jacked? Second, and this is really th' more important part, dust my dick when ya get th' chance. Any questions?" I just scowled at Toombs, but Rick chuckled.

"Yeah. What took ya so long?"

_He's got a plan,_ I thought. _But what does Toombs catching us have to do with it?_ At least the one woman in the crew of six behaved professionally as the slapped cuffs on us.

Idiotically, the mercs didn't even pat us down before securing Rick in the lockdown couch and cuffing my hands to the arms of the jumpseat nearest to him. They simply settled for taking his harness with the swingblades and my backplate with Dextra and Sinistra. One lean, almost gaunt man watched the custom-made armor and long daggers with hungry eyes.

"In an' out, unsuspected an' undetected!" The fattest bounty hunter chortled as the undercutter left the ground. "Damn, I love a good smash-an'-grab." Only then did he start to take a seat.

"Not so fast, not so fast, ya dickheads." The broad leaned over the pilot's shoulder, looking at the ship's instruments. "We're pickin' up fields here."

"Unknown fields detected on hull." The feminine voice of the undercutter confirmed the statement. If they'd asked me, I _might_ have let them know that the Necromongers wouldn't want people escaping to warn other planets about them.

"I knew it. Here it comes." The pilot sounded worried.

"This is some kinda scan," the woman added. "I dunno, readin' our BTUs, maybe?"

_Or however that thing was spotting the living._ That reinforced my observation from the previous night.

"Let's drop one." Toombs lit up a cigar, clearly ready to celebrate.

"Dropping." The pilot hit a switch, causing a brief hiss. "Decoy launched." After another minute of watching the controls, the broad's shoulders relaxed and she took a seat by the forward bulkhead.

"So, where do we drop your merc-killin' asses?" the curly-haired man asked. "Who's gonna pay th' most for ya now? Butcher Bay?"

"Butcher Bay." My mate seemed to savor the words. "Ten minutes every other day on th' dog run. Protein waffles aren't bad."

"They got downgraded after you escaped, remember, babe?" I smirked. "No more cryo triple-max."

"Hey, how 'bout Ursa Luna?" My sister's abductor gave me the evil eye as he spoke. "Nice little double-max prison."

"They keep a cell open for me, just in case I drop in."

"Mighty accomodatin' folks there." I hadn't riled a merc in a long time, and Toombs reacted in exactly the right ways.

"You know th' problem with these joints now?" He turned to address his crew. "Health clubs for waffle-eatin' pussies." The end of his cigar glowed briefly. "Maybe we should think about uppin' our game here a little bit. Think about someplace truly diabolical."

"What th' hell is he thinkin' now?" The woman's grumble gave me an excuse to laugh scornfully before I answered her question.

"He's thinkin' a triple-max prison, a no-daylight slam." I traded grins with Rick. "Not that a lack of sunshine bothers _us_."

"Only three left in th' system." He picked up my train of thought smoothly. "Two of 'em outta range of a shitty little undercutter like this one, with no legs. Leavin' just one…" The broad's eyes started showing more of the whites when the next word came in soprano-bass stereo.

"Crematoria."

"That _is_ what you had in mind, right, Toombs?" I kept my voice light, feeling like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.

"Hey, how do _they_ know where we're goin' an' _we _don't?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson." I affected a sagacious British accent. "Process of elimination. Really, it's the only place that could hold us for more than a few hours."

"Dope it out." The curly-haired asshole glared balefully at me as he gave the order, to no effect.

"I hate this run." I couldn't blame the pilot. The landing had to be timed just right, and I wasn't really sure the C-19 could handle the strain.

"Just do it!" Toombs' temper seemed to be fraying around the edges.

"Don't know 'bout this new crew of yours." My lover's voice barely concealed a laugh. "They seem a bit skittish." Mercs hated nothing more than advice from a payday.

"Prob'ly shouldn't tell 'em what happened t' th' last crew." Especially when said payday had it right.

"Y'know, you're supposed t' me some slick-shit killers." The man got right up in Rick's face as he took a drag on his cigar. "Now look atcha. All back-o'-da-bus an' shit." He blew the smoke into my mate's face, but didn't even get a flinch.

The obnoxious merc turned away, his minions strapping themselves into the seats. Cryo cuffs bit down, their weak drugs barely making me drowsy, and the ion engine kicked in.

I sighed. It had been a long day, and a little nap sounded like a good idea to me.

Helion Prime, Basilica, War Room

"I say we take Helion Two next." He had come to report his findings from tracking the Furyan, his female, and the breeders who'd stolen the pair from under the fleet's noses. It sounded like Toal wanted another battle. "Take it straight into their teeth. It'll cost you twenty thousand heads, five warrior ships, nothing more. I swear it." The cocky fool.

"While I do prize brute force, this approach is, perhaps, more artful." As Vaako moved closer to the Lord Marshal on silent feet, the man waved at the modeling table. "Start at the end. Go straight to Helion Five, the last planet in the system. We approach from the night side. Remove these cannon first, then attack the larger placements at speed."

_So close…_

"We'll catch them on their rear flank, and in ten days' time, the rest of those worlds will tumble before us. You see, as with most, their blind spot…" A ghostly image of the Lord Marshal's face turned to look at him, closely followed by its flesh-and-blood counterpart. "… is right behind them."

The senior commander schooled his expression into stillness. "I've located an ion trail which leads off-world." He didn't tack on a 'My Lord' or even 'Sir' at the end; he'd toady to no one, not even one of the holy Half-Dead.

"Then you should _be_ off-world, Vaako." An interesting response. He decided that an appeasement was in order.

"I've deployed a tracker team, one of the best."

"Wherever Riddick and his female have gone, you lens them out and cleanse them. _You_."

"You want _me_ to take a _frigate_ for two breeders?" He allowed his incredulity to color his voice. Lord Marshal or not, such irrational decisions did not bode well.

"Don't question it, Vaako!" The shout sent ripples through the modeling table. Then Zhylaw's voice went deadly quiet. "Take it on faith."

With a brisk nod, the commander turned and left the room.

(Niklas)

_So Vaako is to go after them personally._ He was sure he hadn't been seen in his little spying niche, nor was he spotted leaving it for his private quarters. As an Omega Furyan, stealth came naturally to him.

And now, for the first time in thirty years, he had real hope. Oh, without the young Veruna woman, he knew he'd have thought that Furya would be avenged… at most. With all he'd had to do in order to survive this long, he might have lost the will to live on without an Alpha female to help ensure the future of the race. And with a Riddick as her mate…

Now he needed to manipulate Zhylaw into sending him with Vaako.

(Vaako)

"He's always been unsettled around you." Dame Vaako carefully darkened her eyeliner as she spoke. "The Lord Marshal. Unsteady." Only half listening to her, Kyrus stared into the viewing orb set on one wall of their quarters. "Perhaps because he knows he's half the warrior you are. Some say he's too artistic for the job. I wouldn't be surprised if someone promoted him soon… to full dead."

"Take care what you say." He turned to glare at Zinna. Her big mouth could get them both killed.

"Should I say it softly?" Sarcasm dripped from her stage whisper.

"So it sounds more like conspiracy?" he retorted. She all but threw her mirror onto the vanity before standing.

"Oh, _why_ is it that when anyone _breathes_ about the demise of him on the throne, everyone _assumes_ a conspiracy? Why isn't that just… prudent planning?" One elegant, dusky hand flipped dismissively.

"When he is ready, he will name a successor." As all the previous Lords Marshal had. Why did she have to bring this up now? He needed to be organizing a frigate, getting together some of his troops to go after Riddick and the other breeder.

"Who? Toal? Scales? The _Purifier_?" She laughed mockingly, then touched his chest. "_None_ of them with the strength, the dignity, of Lord Vaako." A smirk appeared on her face. "You can keep what you kill."

"Stop."

"That _is_ the Necromonger way."

"I said, _stop_." Kyrus seized her wrists and pushed her back. "His death will come in due time, and not a moment sooner."

"Why?" He hated it when she whined.

"Because I serve him, we _all_ serve him. It's called fidelity." Though, judging by her initial attempt to snare Riddick with lust, he had to wonder if she knew what the word meant.

"It's called _stupidity_," Zinna snarled.

"Hmph," he chuckled scornfully. The moment she dropped her guard, he backhanded her across the face so hard that she hit the far wall.

"Well, _finally_, some attention." She wiped her mouth, then leapt on him, flailing and scratching like a wild animal until he pinned her torso to the table. Anger quickly became ardor as their mouths crashed together.

"You have such greatness in you." She twisted around, licking his conversion marks. "If only you could see it like I do." Then his wife paused. "You know what I want?"

"Today, I came up behind him in perfect silence, and he knew." He couldn't shake the memory of that ghostly face staring at him.

"I want to go down in Necropolis, right now." It seemed her insatiable sex drive, now roused, kept her from thinking of anything else.

"His half-dead soul sensed I was behind him. He sees _everything_."

"When no one is looking, when no one's around, I'm going to get down on my knees… while _you_ sit on the throne." That got his attention.

_Oooo. Kinky… and __**so **__tempting._ He followed Zinna through the corridors to a balcony overlooking the dais. But the Lord Marshal already sat there as several soldiers escorted a woman in white to stand before him. As she moved, her form seemed to blur at the edges.

"How unexpected…" The voice from the throne carried well.

"An Elemental? Here?" His wife carefully peered over the railing and around a column.

"One of the captives." He remembered someone—Scalp Taker, he thought—bragging about the Air Elemental who'd all but turned herself in.

"And why, after thirty years, should it be you?" Zhylaw's question echoed up to them.

"He doesn't regard her as a captive, though." In fact, it looked like they already knew each other. Odd.

"Elementals," Zinna scoffed. "They talk of neutrality, but they're all witches and spies. Why else would they come and go like the wind?"

"But where have they gone? Where is the Furyan hiding now?" The main hall's peculiar acoustics projected the Lord Marshal's voice for all to hear, yet they kept the Elemental's answers relatively private. His wife turned, placing a hand on his chest.

"You be the good warrior." Her condescending, patronizing tone set his teeth on edge. "Go after this Riddick and his female. I'll find out why the Lord Marshal feels so threatened by them."

_Finally_, she'd seen sense. Now to gather his best men and get them on a ship.


	6. Chapter 6

Hee, my email works again! Thanks, BlueEyedPisces, for letting me know that there's at least one person still with me. Lynx has told me that this chapter and the next seem like Riddick and Eileen/Lyra are taking things lightly, like a game, but I assure you, they know the stakes. However, since they can't do anything about the serious stuff at the moment, they're not going to fret overmuch about it; waste of time and energy, after all. Please read, enjoy, and review, and I'll see you next week!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Six**

A spot of red-pink appeared on the bulkhead across from me, swiftly growing until graves surrounded me. The woman approached, and I snarled.

"_Now_ what? Who the fuck _are_ you, anyway?" Then I blinked. I hadn't been _able_ to speak in my previous dreams.

"I am Shirah, guide to all Furyans who bear my mark. A… guardian of the race, if you will." Her voice remained calm and level. "Your mate would have no silver in his eyes, had I not intervened."

"_You_ fucked up his vision." Did she have any _idea_ how much pain the shine had caused him?

"He _needed_ to be able to see. Needed it badly. You received it with your mother's milk, but he was denied that. I had to force the process, and even _I_ am not perfect. Not even after all these millennia." Then she turned to stare over the hills. "You will find help where you least expect it."

The haunting landscape disappeared abruptly, accompanied by the 'click' of someone undoing their crash webbing. The female merc stood, then walked quietly toward Rick. I forced myself to stay still while she leaned over him, breathing in deeply. Making a bold move, she lifted his shades.

Mercury eyes snapped open, startling the broad into leaning back. His knees trapped hers. Then he smirked.

"Do you know you grind your teeth at night? Sexy." His sarcastic voice belied the statement. I extended a leg, just able to set my calf across his thigh. Frightened brown eyes turned to me.

"Mine. No touchies." She squeaked—tough girl merc, _squeaking_— and leaned away again. This time, my lover let her go, and she stumbled back to her jump seat.

"Want you." The two words reached me as an almost subvocal rumble. I smiled wryly before whispering back.

"Little tied up at the moment."

"Later, then."

"Oh, yeah." The itch was getting… more than a little distracting. Letting my leg fall, I made sure I was in something close to my original position so Toombs and his boys would think everything had been kosher for the whole trip. Then I deliberately relaxed into a light doze.

"Destination reached. Unlocking manual controls." I opened my eyes to see the mercs moving around, each donning a pair of ridiculous-looking sunglasses. Next to me, Rick shifted, using a structural beam to push his own shades back down over his eyes. The bounty hunters returned to their seats, making sure the restraints fit right. Except for the woman; she unfolded a seat at the pilot's left elbow, glancing at some of the instruments as she adjusted straps.

"All right, I make seven hundred degrees on th' day side, three hundred below on th' night side." I whistled, thinking about how nasty the thousand-degree temperature differential had to be. "Buffer zone's only thirty-two klicks wide."

"Let's not get caught in the sun," the pilot advised. Toombs chuckled, waving his half-smoked cigar.

"If I owned this place an' hell, I'd rent this place out an' live in hell."

_You think you're so funny, jackass._ I kept a scowl off my face by reflex. _We'll see who's laughin' on th' way outta here._

"Blue angle, good."

"Stand by," the man up front warned before kissing some sort of amulet. "And…"

"Plotted course, good."

"Hit it!" The control yoke slammed forward, dropping the C-19's nose into a steep dive.

"Angle of approach, not good." Damned computer talked too much. Then again, most mercs needed printed instructions to use the head.

"Look, Ma! No hands!" The fat guy held out his hands and laughed with the others. But I could smell the fear-sweat, even over the ship's other odors, and knew their behavior was a front.

The metal of the deck shivered under my feet as we leveled out over a rough runway, canted just a little bit too much to the left. Light too bright even for my heavily-polarized sunglasses streamed in from the cockpit, the air becoming uncomfortably warm. Their timing for the landing was off, almost too late.

"Party poppers!" The pilot's shout caused the broad to kick a big red button directly opposite her, and something suddenly pulled hard from behind the ship. Its momentum dropped so fast that my mate was thrown forward against his restraints. At least the port side came up so it was no longer scraping against anything.

The darkness arrived as abruptly as the undercutter's brakes had. We'd stopped completely inside some sort of cavern that had been converted into a hangar, probably when the prison was originally set up. The hull groaned and pinged as the metal cooled.

"I think I shit myself." _Someone_ had certainly lost control of their bowels. I glanced at Rick.

"Skittish, Toombs, _very _skittish," we chorused. It drew a furious glare from the man, but no verbal response. Then his crew piled out, the light in the bay changing from a fiery yellow-orange to the dim blue of artificial bulbs. The lean merc and the fat one returned with armfuls of heavy chains.

With weighty manacles on my wrists and ankles, I had to watch as the bounty hunters argued over the items they'd confiscated from us.

"Don't be stupid, Nerum." The woman snatched my backplate out of the skinny man's hands.

"I had first dibs, Eve!"

"It's made t' fit a _female_ body. Wouldn't work right for you." Not that it would work much better for her, as it had been made specifically for me and my longer-than-average torso, rather than her shorter measurements.

"Then… then I get her shades!"

"Damn, Meeko, these things're bigger than they look." I figured that the guy with the rat's nest for hair was the youngest of the group. He had that sort of wet-behind-the-ears look.

"Then let someone with large enough hands have 'em, Crash," the pilot replied.

"Nuh-uh! These're gonna be _my_ trophies from catchin' Riddick!" 'Crash' wriggled into the swingblades' harness as 'Eve' buckled my armor over her vest. The muscles in my lover's jaw tightened, and I tried not to grit my own teeth.

Our stuff wouldn't stay in their filthy hands for long.

Finally, Toombs bullied them into looping more chains around us, then led the way down a set of stairs. Doors at the bottom slid open revealing an old mining sled. Its tracks ran down a tunnel, the far end out of sight.

The mercs forced us to lay down on the flat rear section of the vehicle, anchoring our hands and feet to bars. The 'boss' got one of the four seats up front, of course, and the others were quickly claimed by Crash, Eve, and Meeko. The remaining pair grudgingly sat in the back… on top of us.

"Comfy?" Nerum leered down at me with a gap-toothed grin. His overweight buddy licked his fingers and wiped imaginary dust from Rick's custom sunglasses.

"When th' ride's over, your shades are _mine_." Then he looked over at my 'passenger.' "Since Nerum's already called hers." We looked at each other, wordlessly agreeing that these two _had_ to go.

The toe of his left boot began tapping my right in time with the lights passing overhead. The sled settled into a consistent velocity, and our chance came just seconds later. I felt the muscles in my mate's arm tense, and we arched our backs simultaneously.

The two surprised mercs flew up, one of the light fixtures neatly clipping them in the head and eliminating their forward momentum. As they dropped to the tunnel floor, Toombs turned to see what the hell had happened. His brows furrowed as he stared at us for a moment.

I frowned and shrugged, as if to say, 'Who, me?' The jackass snorted and faced forward again.

"Four-way split!" The merc cackled, though the rest of his team reacted in a more subdued manner. None of them said anything else for the rest of the trip.

"Twenty-nine point four kilometers." Rick's whisper made me smile as the sled bounced against the end-of-the-line bumper. Not a bad distance for an early-morning run.

_One potential escape route there. He's probably got another one worked out already._

The remaining bounty hunters forced us to stand, and I scanned the faces of the prison's guards and warden.

"So. This is Riddick and his other woman." The wiry, dusky-skinned man spat off to one side. "A matched set now, yes?" That said, he turned and walked into the prison itself. The entire group followed.

(Toombs)

He watched as th' pair's handcuffs were looped through a large metal hook on th' end of a heavy cable. They'd been behavin' suspiciously well since Nerum and Digger disappeared from th' sled. Had Crematoria been a bad choice, with their youngest member already here?

Then again, they'd been right about th' Flattery C-19's range. Well, he'd just have to take his chances… and try t' get off-planet before they made th' inevitable escape attempt.

Th' moment their extended hands disappeared through th' round floor hatch, Gabriel turned t' talk price with Douruba.

(Lyra)

We couldn't have been much more than five meters below the control room when the first prisoner saw us. Grinning, he banged a metal cup against a nearby railing, starting up a rhythmic, hollow clanging. Soon, others picked up the beat, the sound spreading through the vast pit.

Sulfur stung my sensitive nose, and I started scanning every walkway I could see. Where was Kyra?

(Toombs)

Toombs slammed th' winch control into its 'stopped' position.

"What in th' bowels of Christ are you talkin' 'bout, seven hundred an' fifty K?"

"Don' take these two, boss." Th' heavyset man sitting on th' weight bench gave th' warden a pleadin' look.

"See, Anatoli here has a nose for trouble." Douruba patted th' guard's shoulder. "And these two, Riddick and his other woman, on top of the one already here…"

"Big, _big_ trouble."

"So seven-fifty is good money." Th' wiry man turned th' winch back on.

"The guild pays us a caretaker's fee for each prisoner, each year." Sittin' on th' corner of a desk, a bald man shelled pistachios as he spoke. "We pay mercs twenty percent of that fee, based on a certain life expectancy."

"How's about this." Out of th' corner of his eye, Gabriel watched Crash edge toward th' controls. "You open that safe you got hidden behind th' console there, show me th' _real_ books, _then_ we figure out my cut. _Then_ I'll be on my way."

"Open my books." Th' warden kicked th' false front that had been a little ajar, closin' it. "This is what you suggest?"

"Wasn't a suggestion."

(Riddick)

Th' first time our descent stops, I feel Lyra's shoulders flex, judgin' how much bounce she could get. I know what she's thinkin' of doin'. An' her shoulders an' hips are just slim enough t' pass through th' space between my arms.

Th' winch starts up again, an' I tilt my head back t' look at th' circle of light above. We stop again, an' my lover slips between my biceps t' sit on my shoulders. I can't help it.

"Mmm. Nice view." Th' scent of her arousal barely makes it past th' brimstone.

"Behave," she responds, shiftin' her arms so she c'n smack my head lightly. An' not th' one that wants t' be smacked. I grin, then look up again as th' lockpicks come out of her belt buckle. Time t' rile th' mercs some more.

"I'd take th' money, Toombs!"

That oughtta ensure that th' idiot stays a while. Long enough for us t' escape.

(Toombs)

"These are… dangerous days, if you believe the talk." Douruba filled two shot glasses from a bottle of clear liquid, probably a local hooch. Then he handed a glass to Gabriel.

"Talk?" He didn't know what they'd used t' make th' stuff, an' he wasn't gonna drink it.

"About dead planets, about some… ghost army." Th' warden sounded rather spooked. "About _Them_."

"'Them'?" Was th' man talkin about th' weird-ass soldiers his crew had sneaked past on Helion Prime? Best t' play dumb. He watched Douruba toss back his drink.

"I'll run the numbers again. It takes a couple days, probably. So, you can stay as my guest. At least here we are all safe, yes?" He spread his arms, all welcomin' an' shit, then looked over at Anatoli.

"Yes, boss."

"I'll give it a day." Fifty-two hours, here on Crematoria, but hopefully Riddick an' his bitches wouldn't have enough time t' get a plan together an' put it into action. He dumped th' hooch down th' hole an' tossed th' shot glass at th' warden. "One."


	7. Chapter 7

Yes, Eileen/Lyra, Jack/Kyra, and Riddick seem rather laid back during much of this chapter. Don't let it fool you; they're aware that things are probably going to get hairy soon. Inow you guys are reading this, but I would greatly appreciate some feedback. *pouts* Merci beaucoup to Lynx for catching the goof-ups that I miss and helping me fix them before I Post this stuff for you all. Enjoy!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Seven**

The cat-in-the-cream smile on Rick's face kept growing as I worked one-handed to unlock the handcuffs that the prison guards had slapped on me to replace Toombs' heavy manacles. Fortunately, I'd practiced with my lockpicks in case of this sort of situation. Within two minutes, the restraints fell seven meters, hitting the uneven rock floor with a clatter.

"Hands, babe." My mate shifted obligingly, grabbing the loop of cable first with one hand, and then the other. His cuffs came off even faster than mine, and I looked down. Several ragged figures had appeared, streaked with yellow powder. They looked like they wanted a fight.

They'd sure as hell get one.

"Ready?" Rick grinned wickedly in response.

"Go." As he spoke, I flung myself backwards, turning a full somersault and a one-eighty pivot before landing in a feline crouch. My boot knife all but jumping into my hand, I charged the closest member of the 'welcome wagon.'

He never knew what hit him.

In a matter of seconds, I took down three men, then turned toward my lover. Fear seized up my throat; there was too much distance between us for me to stop the man behind him before his blow landed. I started to cry out his name.

A long chain whipped out from a dark corner, precisely wrapping itself around the bastard's throat. The person wielding the chain pulled, hard, and I heard the other prisoner's neck break. A little flip freed the improvised weapon to retract across the ground.

Jack—Kyra stepped out of the shadows, winding the links around her arm. One corner of my mouth quirked, and she nodded solemnly. I could tell that her dormant potential had woken fully at last.

_Now_ we were truly a matched set. Three beasts in human disguise. And anyone who crossed us… well, they wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

"There are inmates, and there are convicts." I turned and moved toward Rick, carefully watching the bearded man who'd spoken. He ambled down a set of slap-dash stairs, followed by a couple other men. "A convict has a certain code, and he—or she—knows to show a certain respect." He eyed my bloody knife, his face unreadable. "An inmate on the other hand, pulls the plug on his fellow man. Does the guards' work for them. Brings shame…" One foot lashed out almost casually, kicking one of the welcomers in the head and snapping his neck. "… to the game. So, which are you two gonna be?"

"Us?" my man asked. "We're just passin' through."

"Needed t' pick someone up," I added. Then we walked away, steps matching.

(Guv)

Ceryll scratched his beard, wondering about the very deadly newcomers. Who were they? Who did they intend to 'pick up' and why? Most important of all, how the _hell_ had they gotten actual, honest-to-God weapons past the guards and whatever mercs had caught them?

Wait. _Kyra_ had possessed real weapons when she'd arrived over two months earlier. Granted, she'd gradually lost the hidden blades to the guards' searches, but she'd made other weapons to take their places. Like the chain she'd used just a few minutes earlier, and the spring-loaded spikes she'd attached to her boot heels last week.

And she'd insisted that her 'sister an' her man' would spring her out of Crematoria. A moment later, he spotted her heading toward him, the coil of chain looped over her shoulder.

"Told ya, Guv." She grinned, the first _real_ grin he'd seen from her. "Told ya they'd be here t' get me." Then she strode away, following the new pair.

'_Just passin' through,'_ he thought. _Sounds like they're sure they can get out. But nobody outs Crematoria…_

(Lyra)

"So what took you guys so long? How did Toombs find us?" Kyra's voice held a slightly ugly note, a thirst for revenge.

"Imam." Rick only needed the one word to explain.

"That mother-fuckin', holier-than-thou bastard—"

"—is dead." I interrupted the building tirade. "An Elemental mentioned baby boys bein' murdered in a specific, particularly sick manner, an' guess who he thought of." The younger woman spat off to one side angrily. "So we went t' find out what th' fuck he thought he was playin' at an' got caught in a goddamn invasion. Holy man got killed durin' it, Rick got th' one who did it, an' that got th' Necros' leader interested in us. Weird-ass interrogation, figured out that th' leader's th' one who killed our folks, then got away an' ran into Toombs, who 'kindly' gave us a ride here. No hyper at all." My skin crawled; I hate cryo.

"Won't be surprised if th' fucker sent troops after us, th' way he reacted t' findin' out I'm Furyan." My mate added his two cents in an irritated growl. He kept peering at the small caves we walked past.

"Uhm." My sister blinked. "Ain't you guys…?"

"Not since they got you," I replied, knowing what she hadn't said. "Drivin' me batshit."

"God_damn_. 'S gotta be th' longest drought you guys've ever had."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I'll just, uh, go see if I c'n find… yeah." She trotted off in another direction, ponytail of chocolate curls swaying. Other prisoners pressed against the sides of walkways to let her pass.

_Yeah, you might call it a drought, kiddo,_ I thought. I ached so badly that I was tempted to just drag Rick into the next vacant alcove. But neither of us tended toward exhibitionism, so we needed a cave that afforded us some privacy.

I sighed and kept looking.

Necromonger Frigate

(Vaako)

Vaako stood on the bridge, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed into the three viewing orbs showing the space around the ship. He heard the Purifier enter; the man walked differently from the soldiers, with softer, lighter steps.

Not for the first time, he wondered why the Lord Marshal had sent his Chief Purifier after two breeders, along with one of his most senior commanders and a full frigate of soldiers.

"They can be quite a test, these deep runs." Surprised, Kyrus glanced at the blond out of the corner of his eye. "A test of our inner selves. Don't you find that true?"

"Some men do." He kept his reply as neutral as he could.

"Just being so far from the armada, the mind can start to fill with… strange thoughts." The Purifier wanted to test the depth of his faith, it seemed. "Doubts. Don't you ever have doubts, Vaako?"

"Doubts?" About his wife, yes, but he didn't think that was what the other man meant.

"About the campaign, about Lord Marshal." It seemed as though the other man had plucked the thoughts right out of his head. Angry, he turned on the blond.

"First and always, I am a Necromonger commander. So if you're here to test my loyalty, you succeed only in testing my patience." There, let him suck on _that_.

"Oh, no. No, that's not why I'm here at all." The Purifier turned and left as Vaako stared in mild shock.

_What the hell is __**that **__supposed to mean?_

Helion Prime

(Aereon)

Chains and weights attached to her arms clanked down the steps in her wake. Someone had ordered her brought to the small transport hovering in front of the Basilica. As soon as she stepped aboard, the guards released her from her bonds and a female Necromonger appeared.

"I'm so _glad_ I could steal you away for a moment." The mocha-skinned woman's voice dripped with poison and sarcasm. Doors closed behind Aereon, and she felt the ship rise. "Doesn't it strike you as odd? Here we have the current Lord Marshal, destroying entire societies, and yet he can't bring himself to kill _one_ stranded Elemental."

_She's fishing… but what is she trying to catch?_

"Why is that? You don't pray to our god. You pray to _no_ god, I hear."

"Elementals… we calculate." She gave the shortest and most generic answer she could think of.

"Mmm. Don't we all." The Necromonger sounded smug. "But now, let's have first things first. What of Riddick and the woman?"

"In truth, I don't know where they went."

"In truth, I'm more interested in where they _came_ from." The woman moved a large switch, causing a trap door to open and forcing Aereon to step back quickly. "Watch your step."

Arrogant. One of the great flaws of the Necromonger society. With the events now set in motion, they'd learn the price of that arrogance soon.

"I've always wondered, does an Air Elemental fly?" The elegantly-dressed woman picked up a wide, bladed weapon. "Now do me a favor. Calculate the odds of you getting off this planet alive, and now cut them in _half_!" The edge swing at her, and she stepped away from it, easily gliding over the void in the deck.

"No, we can't fly," she responded calmly once she'd set foot on the other side and solidified. "But we glide very well." They even had gliding competitions back home, but this foul creature didn't need to know that. "Save your threats, Necromonger. I would have told you about Riddick for the asking." Best not to mention how surprised she was by the presence of the young Furyan woman who, to the eyes of one as familiar with the race as she, had become his bonded mate.

Now, perhaps, she could sow the seeds of discord against Zhylaw. Now she could begin to pay the debt she owed to every Furyan who might have survived the massacre she had unintentionally inspired. If any besides Riddick and his partner lived; if not, she might as well have killed every one of them with her own hands.

"It concerns a foretelling, a prediction now more than thirty years old. A young warrior once consulted a Seer. He was told a child would be born of the planet Furya, a male child, who would someday cause the warrior's downfall." How many more times would she have to repeat the words that had become her greatest mistake?

A gleam entered the eyes of the Necromonger, who quickly ordered the small vessel's pilot to return them to the Basilica.

Communications Centers, Basilica and Frigate

"… cause his un-timed death." She leaned close to the Quasi-Dead that transmitted her voice to her husband.

"A Furyan?" His reply held a note of confusion. "Furya is a ruined world, no life to speak of." Vaako paced by the head of the writhing, once-human creature.

"For good reason," his Dame crooned. "This young warrior mounted an attack on Furya, killing all young males he could find, even… strangling some with their birth cords. An artful stroke, wouldn't you say?"

Personally, he found it disgusting and reprehensible. Though it _did_ reinforce her earlier statement about the Lord Marshal's 'artistic' streak.

"So this warrior, the one who tried to outwit the prediction, would later become…"

"_That's_ why he worries." It all began to make a disturbing sort of sense.

"… the Lord Marshal. Which would make the man-child…"

"He worries he missed killing that child in its crib."

Or that he had tried to kill it and failed, discarded what he thought was a corpse before it actually died. In which case, this Riddick must be extraordinarily resilient. He nearly died as an infant, yet grew into such a large, strong, and deceptively swift adult. He couldn't stop his mind from replaying the man's brief fight with Irgun.

"…Riddick. That's why it's so vital to him—"

"Wait," Zinna hissed.

"It's about a prophecy."

"Wait, _wait_!" Kyrus stopped mid-thought. Had someone come near on the Basilica, someone who shouldn't overhear their discussion?

"Are you there?" he asked after a long moment.

"You do what your lord asks." He hated when she ordered him around as if he didn't have two brain cells to rub together. "You cleanse Riddick and his partner for him, and in doing so, you prove your undying loyalty. And perhaps _then_ he'll finally let down his guard."

As he pushed the Quasi-Dead back into its niche, his mind raced. Did Zhylaw _deserve_ his loyalty? Did his wife mean to have _him_ challenge the Lord Marshal once the Furyan posed no threat?

He _had_ to get a shorter leash on that damn woman before she got them both killed.

(Niklas)

Leaning against the wall, Niklas smiled to himself. He'd heard Vaako's entire conversation with his wife, and it fanned the flames of his hope into a blaze. Trick the commander into believing the Alphas were dead, then help them get back to Helion Prime and into the Basilica…

Watching them fulfill the prophecy would give him a _great_ deal of satisfaction.

Crematoria, the Pit

(Riddick)

"Still here, I see." We've been lookin' for a good spot for a couple hours without success when th' bearded man catches up t' us. I bare my teeth, silently warnin' th' other man away from _my_ woman. "I've been here for eighteen years," th' convict continues. Then he moves a ring on his left hand, th' broad flash of silvery metal on his third finger. "See this? I remember how gorgeous she was. Well, gorgeous in a certain light. And now, for the goddamned _death_ of me, I cannot remember her name."

Not a good sign, forgettin' people you've left on th' outside. Especially someone he got hitched t', beer goggles or no. It means he's losin' his sense of self. I've seen it happen before, guys turnin' into livin' ghosts.

"Feeding time!" Th' announcement over th' tinny speakers sparks a flurry of movement among th' prisoners. They push an' shove, barricadin' themselves behind bars. Th' apparent leader smiles.

"We're here for the rest of our unnatural lives." He turns away, then looks back over his shoulder. "Whatever you do, don't make eye contact."

(Lyra)

Amid the chaos, we found a semi-secure spot; a ledge set in front of some bars, with a cascade of water between it and the walkway. I could hear some sort of animal, several individuals snarling and calling out to each other in half-familiar tones. Some prisoners screamed, only to be cut off abruptly.

Probably killed by whatever had been released into the Pit.

Things quieted down after a bit, and I soon heard padding steps accompanied by a soft clicking and rustling. One of the creatures walked by on the other side of the waterfall, a dark gray canid shape, perhaps the size of a tiger.

After it passed, Rick and I looked at each other. We needed no words to communicate our shared curiosity about the beast. I raised my sunglasses, feeling my eyes change in the dim light, and turned just as the head pushed through the curtain of water.

Its shape definitely reminded me of a hound, with its narrow snout and pointed ears, but nothing else did. Instead of fur, it wore wide scales, and its eyes gleamed as sliver as my mate's. The body color shifted, gray flushing a bright red as it growled and rattled the plates that bristled like raised hackles. Rick leaned forward, his nose just centimeters from its muzzle as their stares locked.

Slowly, the crimson faded and the scales settled back against the animal's neck. It withdrew, my lover following it through the cascade. I came right behind, just in time to see the creature turn toward the edge of the walkway and let out a loud howl. Several creatures answered, and it pivoted again, rubbing its head against Rick's hip and thigh like an enormous, affectionate dog.

She huffed to herself, the spines of her pelt rattling slightly. As was usual when the cruel ones released her pack, they'd caught a few of the prey, sharing once most of the rest found their hiding spots. Now they'd spread out for a better check, to see if any prey had found itself cornered where one might reach it.

She'd been forced to swat the most stubborn of the young males of the other kind; he'd tried to bring down the cub again. But new scents were in the humid air. And these were definitely _not_ prey.

They were the ones she'd gotten traces of from the cub. Their own. Not the same shape as either half of the pack, but theirs all the same, and fully so.

Her second's howl of joy sent her running along the hard, narrow paths. The other female had found them and recognized one; she, too, had been very young when she last encountered one of theirs, and only they and their two mates remembered. The others had been too young, or had been born in this place.

Maybe the cub and her pack-mates could get the pack away from here, to some place with more prey and more space. They certainly had the pack's loyalty, just because of their links to both sides of the pack.

The anticipation of revenge on the cruel ones heated her blood as she ran.

(Lyra)

Another animal barreled down the walkway, skidding to a stop just before it would have bowled me over. Somehow, it struck me as more feline than canine, and more familiar in an odd way. Its mercury eyes met mine, a deep purr erupting as it stepped closer.

"Hey there." I kept my voice soft and non-confrontational, one hand outstretched with the palm up. It barely sniffed before bumping it imperiously. A laugh bubbled up from my chest.

More joined us, forcing us to find a large platform where they could crowd as close to us as they wanted. Three of the six paid more attention to me, two felinoids even larger and more mature-acting joining the one that had nearly run over me. I'd never had a pet, but they felt more like new-found friends than creatures meant to be simple, affectionate companions. A younger canid was all over Rick, acting like an eager puppy.

The faces of awed prisoners peered through the bars nearby, warned off occasionally by scales—or the slimmer spines of the felinoids—flushing red and the snap of someone's teeth.

A buzzer sounded, turning a half-dozen heads toward the control room. The smaller felinoid looked at me, silver eyes wide. I recognized the expression, even on such an unusual face.

_Oh dear Lord. Not puppy-dog eyes._

But one of its elders put a stop to the wordless attempt to wheedle me into something, grasping one rounded ear in gentle teeth. With a quiet whine, the younger one followed. A canid bristled at a convict, flushing red briefly before calmly heading upwards. I watched them go, saddened.

"Take 'em with us when we leave." My mate ran a comforting hand down my arm. "All of 'em. More up top." One corner of my mouth twitched with a small, brief smile.

"Bloody hell." I looked up to find the bearded man on the other side of the bars.

"It's an animal thing." The guy didn't seem convinced by Rick's explanation, so I pushed my shades up again and put the side of my hand against my eyebrows. The man flinched as I felt my eyes switch to dark mode.

"Guards'll be coming through once the hounds're back in their kennel. Routine searches for weapons… They're more, ah, thorough with the women."

"And this matters _why_?"

"Because I haven't seen Kyra since she went after you two. She usually forts up with me when they send the hellhounds down." Knowing what my little sister had gone through before we met five years earlier, I began to curse a blue streak. Finding her could present quite a challenge, given the size of the pit in which the prison had been built.

We split up to canvass the area more quickly, and I all but stumbled over Kyra twenty minutes later. A furtive air lingered about her, despite her slight smile at seeing me. She touched my arm lightly before speaking.

"They're gonna do a 'head count' any minute now." Her eyes became haunted. "There's a reason we don't have many women down here. Once th' guards break somebody's spirit, they go up top an' don't come back."

"Better find Rick, then, yeah?" She nodded vigorously, and I began to head back the way I'd come.

We managed maybe a hundred meters before the guards found us.

"Lookit what we got here." A dark-skinned man leered at me. "Th' little bitch an' some fresh meat."

"You have _no_ fuckin' idea _who_ you're messin' with, do ya?" My snarled question only prompted nasty chuckles. "Don't say I didn't warn ya… if ya c'n speak when it's all over."

"Cocky piece of ass, aren't ya?" A slim, bald man looked me over. "Not bad lookin', either. Think I'm gonna enjoy this." With rifles in hand, two guards backed us up against a wall. My sister turned reluctantly, putting her hands on the rock face as I followed her lead.

Making contact with her green gaze, I wiggled one wrist slightly. She shook her head, the movement as subtle as mine. No wrist blades, then. I looked down at my feet, thinking of the spring-loaded, serrated blades hidden in the soles of my boots. Just a little, deliberate shift in where my body mass settled would release the catches and turn every kick into a potentially lethal blow. When I looked back up, Kyra winked.

"Check 'em," one guard ordered. "Little bitch always has a blade somewhere." Rough, unwelcome hands began frisking me, running down my sides. Whichever man it was, he cupped my ass in both hands, then slid them around to my front. As soon as he moved one south and the other north, I acted.

Ragged-edged razors popped out of their hiding spots, and I gave the guard a complimentary vasectomy. Centripetal force gave my shoulder and elbow enough strength to throw him halfway across the cavern. My sister's assailant went in almost the same direction, the pair's heads knocking against each other.

More men moved in, wielding maulsticks in an effort to avoid my saw-edged feet and the long spikes extending from the backs of Kyra's boots. We held our own for a bit, but four opponents and little room to move took their toll. A blow glanced off my arm, another clipped the kid's ribcage, and her feet tangled with mine as she fell. Off-balance, I deflected one more swing and toppled, barely missing my sister. Something heavy pinned my shins to the dusty floor as a steel rod pulled against my throat.

"I don't think they like bein' touched." The familiar rumble startled the guards enough for me to scuttle away from the maulsticks, but they still blocked the exit. Kyra and I crowded into a corner where we couldn't be flanked; I breathed an internal sigh of relief at my mate's presence. "If I was you, I'd take my wounded an' go." Rick sipped from the metal cup in his hand. "While ya still can."

"Is there a _name_ for this private little world of yours, huh?" The arrogant black man swaggered toward him. "What happens there when we don't just… run away? You'll kill us? With a soup cup?" Laughter burst from his buddies.

"Tea, actually."

"Whazzat?" Rick drained the container, then set it upside-down on the rounded top of a rock.

"I'll kill you with my _tea_ cup." For a moment, the guards exchanged confused looks. Then the talkative pair leaned toward each other, probably thinking that only their friends could hear them.

"You know the rule."

"They aren't dead if they're still on the books." Steel slithered against a sheath and the darker-skinned man began to turn.

But my lover moved _much_ faster. The cup rose, slammed down on the rock, and split in several places. Over a hundred and fifty kilos came together with a meaty sound, and then a moist tearing as one bronzed arm twisted viciously. The guard flew halfway back to the wall, eyes staring blindly; it took his hand a moment to release the knife.

Quietly smirking, Rick stooped, then placed an old, rusted churchkey on the same stone that had so briefly held the cup. With little hesitation, the pair that had started patting us down were seized by their ankles and dragged away. Kyra popped to her feet with an explosive sigh.

"Damn, I thought they had me that time." She wiped her palms on her thighs. "I mean, usually I stick close t' Guv, but I was more concerned with givin' you some space today."

"Death by teacup." I had to reverse the rotation before the improvised weapon would come out of the corpse's chest. The blood coated all but the bottom centimeter or so of the simple container's walls. "Damn. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Ain't interested in playin' 'Who's The Better Killer' at th' moment, Lyra."

(Kyra)

The tone of her (unofficial) foster brother's voice left Kyra absolutely no doubt as to his intentions. She refused to look back as she exited the cave; it would only make her jealous of their relationship. Guv waited outside, holding three more crude cups. She snagged one and took a grateful sip of the hot, tea-like liquid.

"I've _never_ seen the guards go running like that. Should I get a cleanup crew?"

"Not 'til they're done." She shook her head, loosening fear-taut muscles. "An' that might be a while. First time since they got together that anyone's really gotten Lyra down an' at their so-called 'mercy.' Gave Rick a real scare." The brunette glanced back at the cave. "They could be hours, actually."

"With a dead body right there?" The convicts' leader gave her a bemused stare, and she snorted indelicately.

"Dumbass was gonna rape his mate. Prob'ly gonna make it better for 'em both." Kyra shrugged. "Weird, yeah, but I love 'em anyways."

"All three of you are fucked in the head." Despite his actual words, fondness tinged Guv's voice. She knew that he'd come to care for her in a paternal way since her arrival. Maybe she could get him to join them in their escape.

Spotting a seat-level niche nearby, she curled up to nurse the nerve-soothing brew. Her friend found a spot for himself, but didn't touch the contents of either of the other tin cups. The teen smiled wryly.

"Your cup's not much use anymore." He raised an eyebrow. "Rick turned it into a deadly weapon. Went deep enough that it prob'ly tore into th' guard's heart."

"That what sent them running?" And evil grin spreading across her face, the girl gave him a blow-by-blow description of the entire confrontation. Guv was suitably impressed, judging by his expression.

"Lyra finished th' blades in 'er boots just before Toombs ambushed us." She pressed one heel against the rock and then down, snapping the rough steel spikes back into their normal spots. "'S what gave me th' idea for these. They're fuckin' masters at hidin' weapons. If I was any good at lock-pickin', I'd have a belt buckle like hers, an' those goddamn mercs wouldn't'a lived t' get here."

"And you've spent five years flitting around the known universe without getting caught until now?"

"Eh, one nabbed me a couple years back, but he didn't get a word outta me in th' hour it took 'em t' track 'im down." She shrugged. "Lyra's got a hellishly devious mind. An' she knows th' law backwards an' forwards, too."

"So what got you caught this time?"

"Betrayed by a sanctimonious ass who owed us his life at least twice over. But he's dead now, an' we'll fix Toombs when we get outta here."

For a couple of hours, they chatted companionably, Kyra telling Guv more than she'd previously considered wise. Another con came by with the slop that passed for food in the Pit, and she managed to talk him into leaving bowls for her still-occupied friends. They appeared a few minutes later, their clothes dusty and Lyra's hair spiky with sweat. She walked a bit stiffly, too, and the brunette smiled as she held out the extra food.

"Enjoy yourselves?" Both of them flashed extremely self-satisfied grins.

"Oh, _fuck_, yeah," her sister quipped before shoveling colorless glop into her mouth. Rick only chuckled, and Kyra rolled her eyes.

"I hope t' hell you two got most of that drought outta your systems, then." They simply smirked again. "God, you are such _teenagers_, sometimes."

A loud groan diverted everyone's attention, and she checked her mental clock. Right on schedule, the control room rose on its massive screws, and clouds spiraled toward the newly-revealed vents. Both Furyans hummed thoughtfully.

"So they _do_ go topside." The heavily-muscled man swallowed the last of his meal, then cleared his throat. "T' swap out air. Interestin'."

_That sounds like a plan. Dammit, what's goin' through that thick skull of his?_ Lyra absently passed her a small knife, and she quickly started trimming her ragged fingernails.

"I suppose you have blades for the same reason Kyra had hers when she arrived." Guv cocked an eyebrow, getting a grin back from her sister.

"Toombs is sloppy, only took th' weapons he could see. We're gonna get 'em back soon, though."

"Who the hell are you?"

"When it happens, it'll happen fast." Rick's voice stayed casual as he spoke. "Stay on my leg when we cut fence or stay here… for th' rest of your unnatural life." Then he started climbing the rock face, probably looking for a secure spot where he could nap.

"Nobody outs this place." Her bearded friend stared as Lyra's shorter, slimmer frame followed her boyfriend. "_Nobody_."

"They ain't nobody." Kyra smirked. "Within forty-eight hours, this place'll be notch number seven on his escape belt. An' _this_ time, he's got backup." Before Guv could come up with another question, the brunette headed for the little rock shelf where she usually rested.


	8. Chapter 8

*dances and hums happy birthday to self* Next to last chapter! Much thanks to Lynx for checking this for me and insisting that I add in certain areas. And thank you to DayDreamNinja and LadyBloodyMary for your reviews. Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Eight**

(Toombs)

Well rested, Toombs strode into th' control room, feelin' good about himself. Eve, Meeko, an' Crash trailed behind him, their entrance makin' th' warden look up.

"Good news first." Th' phrase told th' merc that they had bad news, too. "Talked things over with my _amigos_ here. We'll cut you in for eight hundred fifty K."

Hot damn. That would make his total share from th' trio over a quarter million. Gabriel grinned, rubbin' his hands together in anticipation.

"Well, all right. What's th' bad news, they closed th' local whorehouse?" He laughed at his own joke. As if anyone would set up a brothel on this miserable rock.

"No." Douruba's clipped reply sobered him. "The bad news is worse than that." Only then did Toombs notice th' guard pullin' papers out of th' safe an' stuffin' 'em into a bag. "Our pilot, he saw _this_. It crossed a shipping lane." A slim reader slapped against his stomach, an' he quickly zoomed in on th' delicately purple nebula.

_Oh, hell. One o' them funky-ass ships. Poker face on; gonna hafta bluff my way outta this._

"Any… _idea_ what this might be?"

"Never saw nothin' like it."

"That ship charts back to Helion Prime." Th' warden walked over t' one of th' guards. "You know, Anatoli's got a nose for trouble. And he thinks trouble follows you."

"Look, we dusted our tracks an' got th' hell outta there." Gabriel's mind raced, tryin' t' think of a way t' get t' th' undercutter an' get off-planet before th' freaks arrived… an' how t' make sure Douruba an' his boys didn't get t' th' vessel first. "There is _no way_ we didn't lose 'em."

"_Them_?"

Oops.

"These are my prisoners. _Mine_. Nobody else's. An' I want my money _now_." He tensed, wishin' he hadn't buckled th' security flaps over his holsters.

"So, you stole prisoners…" Th' warden got up in his face, managin' t' loom despite his short stature. "From _Them_!"

Toombs' fist caught th' smaller man on th' chin, sendin' him reelin' backwards. Guns came out all around, an' th' bullets started flyin'. Only one spot in th' room would keep him from bein' hit.

He dove through th' hole in th' floor, gloves smokin' around th' cable as he tried t' stop his descent.

(Lyra)

The gunshots echoing down from the control room and the accompanying flashes of light drew attention quickly among the Pit's residents. No one, it appeared, had bothered to reel up the cable that had brought us down, let alone plug the hole in the floor. And when the curly-haired asshole came sliding down, I couldn't help but cackle.

"Shoulda taken th' money, Toombs." Rick shook his head and 'tsk'ed through a big grin. The merc had managed to stop almost level with the broad ledge we'd found, looking like a toddler who'd just had all his favorite toys taken away.

Something exploded overhead, and then the noise subsided quickly. Familiar hands settled on my hip, and I smirked at our former captor.

"Here comes company!"

"No!" The bounty hunter protested as my lover lifted me easily. "Riddick! Nooo!" I sailed over the gap, catching Toombs' vest and beginning my climb.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," I told the scumbag. "'Cause you'll never get this close t' me again." Once I got a few meters up by twisting the cable around my feet and reaching higher, then repeating, the cable swung again as Rick followed me.

Two strobing blue lights and random showers of sparks provided the only light in the control room as I boosted myself over the edge of the hole. Four men lay in the immediate area, deathly still, including Toombs' pilot and his other male flunky. I began examining the remaining functional controls, looking for the one that would unlock the gate barring the stairs down into the Pit.

My mate hauled himself up as I found the switch, and Kyra led the group that came through the door. Guv all but trod on her heels, probably realizing that our jailbreak could happen any minute now. Other prisoners stared at the wreckage left behind from the firefight.

"Mercs," one observed. "Some guards here, but this can't be all of 'em." Guv immediately took charge of his people.

"Check the slots in the back. And be careful."

"Don't bother." I stopped, halfway to the limp figure of the female bounty hunter. Rick casually dropped a heavy vid screen. "Guards ain't there. They figured out th' Necros are comin' for us." He made a small gesture toward me, and I resisted the urge to squirm under the sudden attention. "Plan was t' clean th' bank, ghost th' mercs, break wide through th' tunnel." One of his steel-toed boots nudged a wide-barreled weapon on the floor. "An' then somebody got a lucky shot off with this rocket launcher here an' took out th' sled." Others winced with me. "Guards took off on foot, but rigged th' door so no one could follow. They'll take th' one ship in th' hangar, an' leave everyone else here t' die."

Toombs grunted, struggling up the cable. With his head and shoulders above the hole's edge, he glared.

"How come you know all this shit? You weren't even here!"

"Because," I hissed, turning toward him, "It was _our_ Plan A." Then I nodded at my sister. "Sit on 'im for a few, would ya?" She grinned, fisting one hand in his hair and forcing him to go where she wanted.

I returned my attention to the woman, Eve. Her torso leaned against a rocky wall, arms and legs akimbo. She still breathed, barely; my backplate, though flexible, didn't fit her and hadn't prevented what I thought might be a broken spine. I crouched and began unbuckling the armor without bothering to be gentle. She stirred.

"Y' gonna kill me now?" Her voice only got a tiny bit above a whisper. I sat back on my heels, considering.

"I think maybe that decision should be made by th' one you were mackin' on." I glanced at my lover, and he shrugged indifferently. "Or not." With a sigh, I thought. Judging by the fact that she still breathed, one of her thoracic vertebra must have given way, but one of the upper ones to sever the nerves controlling her arms.

_Fuck knows none of the people who stay here are gonna want to care for a quadriplegic. Especially one that was a merc._ I made my decision.

"If ya want it over fast, I c'n do that an' make it relatively painless. You're not gonna walk or use your hands again without treatment at a civilized hospital, an' it'd take years, even then. Up t' you." She closed her eyes, moisture gathering at the inner corners, then looked back up at me.

"Now, please." With a nod, I drew a leaf-shaped blade. A quick thrust at the base of her skull finished it, and her body went completely limp. Then I completed the adjustment of the straps on my backplate, checked that Dextra and Sinistra didn't stick in their sheathes any more than they ought to, and stood.

A muted, snarling howl drew my attention to a pair of heavy, barred doors. I _knew_ what had to be in there. When I smirked and tilted my head toward the portal, Kyra sniggered evilly, dragging Toombs along as I began removing the poles inserted through the handles. The gleeful light in her green eyes prompted me to raise an eyebrow.

"Three different species in th' kennel," she explained. "Some small, vicious things they haven't put in th' Pit while I've been here. Th' others are bigger—"

"Canids and felinoids with scales instead of fur? An' they get along with each other?"

"You've met, then?"

"Oh yeah." I chuckled. "Th' kitten, cub, whatever was… rather happy t' see me." She snorted in amusement and pulled open one door. Against the barrage of animal cries, I whistled sharply. Two sets of voices went silent, leaving only hostile, canvas-tearing sounds.

Each wall's cages held a different species, with a vacant spot in the middle of each group. Slim, weasel-like shapes twisted around each other on the far wall, but the occupants of the side slots sat quietly and watched us with sliver gazes. A quick count told me that taking them would cram the undercutter full, but I wouldn't abandon them, and I knew they'd behave around other humans as long as Rick or I stayed close.

"Keys're on th' left." I grabbed them; my sister must have spent more than a little time here, to know such things offhand. "Bugged th' hell outta th' guards that slottin' me up actually _relaxed_ me." I snorted, looking for the key to the rear vacancy.

"Nobody tryin' t' jump ya in here."

"Yup." She popped the 'p' emphatically. I unlocked the door and let Kyra shove the merc inside, head first. She followed it up with a boot to the ass before slamming the gate closed and engaging the lock. The weasel-things tried to reach through the bars on either side with clawed paws.

"Tell me, Toombs." I crouched, raising my shades so that, with only two aging bulbs in the room and both of them behind me, my eyes changed. He huddled against the rock at his back. "What did you do with my ship?"

"I don't—"

"_Don't_ try to bullshit me, Gabriel. Where. Is. My. Ship?"

"Primary mining facility in Helion's asteroid belt," he grumbled.

"Good." I stood, grinning savagely. "Wonder how long it's gonna take those things t' get t' you?" He whimpered as I began to flip through the remaining keys.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" The brunette peered at me curiously.

"Keys t' th' other pens." I tried one on the lock holding the youngest canid, but it didn't fit. So I switched to another. "We're not leavin' these boys an' girls here for further exploitation."

"Uhm… they've kinda left me alone most of th' time, a little harassment, but anyone else…" My sister shrugged, giving me an odd stare.

"Kyra, _look_ at 'em." I rubbed the bridge of my nose, then tapped the orbital bone around one eye. She drew a sharp breath.

"Th' shine." She blinked, then smacked her forehead. "_God_. I feel stupid for not recognizin' it."

"Don't worry about it; big facial difference." The next key clicked, and the puppy bounded out, briefly licking each of us on an elbow before trotting toward the control room. The sound of panicked reactions put a grin on my face as I released the eight other canids, and all nine of the felinoids.

"How the _hell_ did you do this?" Guv waved his hand at the animals as Kyra and I rejoined the group of prisoners. One felinoid bumped his elbow, demanding attention.

"Like he said," I responded, jerking a thumb at my man's back. "It's an animal thing. They'll behave." I traded looks with Rick. Since the tunnel was a no-go, preparations needed to be made for our dawn run. "Anybody who's goin' with us, you'll need water, rope… coats." The big thermometer hit fifty below. "Let's move, people." Guv and four others ducked into what I suspected was the guards' quarters, My sister turned to follow, but my hand on her shoulder made her pause. "Stick close t' Rick out there, let me play rear guard." She nodded before she went through the door.

Five minutes later, with everyone back in the control room, my mate pushed a large lever forward. The giant screws creaked, then turned more freely. The thermometer neared zero.

"What is this?"

"What is he thinking?"

"Once th' sun comes up, we won't last five minutes…"

"Five minutes? We ain't gonna last _thirty seconds_ out there. It'll light you up like a match!" This came from a stringy older guy. Pessimist.

"Twenty-nine point four kilometers t' th' hangar. Thirty-two point two klick buffer zone." Rick looked over his shoulder as he spoke. "Do th' math."

"Thirty klicks over _that_ terrain?" someone else asked as heavy metal shutters pulled away from the windows. Using a piece of debris, I started knocking glass out of the shattered pane's frame.

"It's moving in the right direction." The bearded convict peered outside. "We could make it. Stay behind the night, ahead of the sun."

"There's gonna be one speed," my lover warned. "Mine. If ya can't keep up, don't steep up. You'll just die." One man looked at his face for a moment, then handed a coil of rope and a water pack to Guv.

Wordlessly, seven humans and eighteen scaled animals climbed out the window and started across the lava fields. The prison's shutters closed with a dull thud behind us. No turning back. My own breathing thundered in my ears, the vibration from my feet hitting rock traveling up my bones.

After a kilometer or so, rough hills turned into a maze of ravines. I heard Kyra call Rick's name and figured she'd lost sight of him among the twists and turns. He appeared like a ghost, shedding his coat and straddling the crevice, hands extended toward her. I shrugged out of the purloined duster that my sister had handed me, just like the others; it was getting warm enough that we didn't need the extra layers any longer.

(Riddick)

We enter an ash-clouded area, an' I duck through lace-like domes of cooled lava. Gray 'snow' covers everythin' an' keeps fallin', streakin' my skin with black an' givin' th' area a deceptively peaceful look. I scan th' terrain as I move.

There. Another hatch, like th' one I saw open just before we hit th' cracks. This one's still closed, an' I jump onto its roof. I tie one appropriated maulstick head to a couple meters of rope. I start swingin' it, buildin' up momentum.

A trio of latches around th' hatch lid pop open, and I feel machinery raisin' th' metal. End of th' rope in my left hand, right one a meter further down, stretchin' th' material tight between 'em. _Voila_, homemade flail.

"No more run for you." Sounds like one of th' asswipes who'd been so eager t' have their way with _my_ girls yesterday—yesterday by normal clocks, not this fuckin' place's rhythms. Killin' him's gonna be even sweeter than I expected.

"Hey, where's the big one?" That's my cue, an' th' heavy, spiked head goes crashin' through th' gap. I grin savagely when I hear someone fall inside. Then th' other guards in th' hatch start shootin'.

One of th' prisoners takes a bullet t' th' chest, an' the kid whips out a pistol in response. Lyra, further back, unlimbers an assault rifle as well—fuck if I know where she found it—an' I clear th' hell outta there. Friendly fire ain't. Lead ricochets off th' heat-roughened metal, an' from my new vantage point I see another head vanish. Th' thirty-centimeter opening shifts again, narrowin'.

But Kyra doesn't stop. She unloads th' whole damn magazine as she runs, then kicks at th' closed hatch. I grab her shoulder, turnin' her back toward our destination.

"What th' fuck was that?" I let the acid into my voice. "You don't care whether you live or die?"

"As long as I take some o' them with me, not really." That earns her a swat t' th' head, an' I ignore her glare.

"Better fuckin' rethink that before your sister finds out." I jump down to a thick rock bridge, th' heat from th' exposed river of lava below makin' me sweat. "_Keep movin'_."

(Lyra)

_This is gonna be a problem._

I sipped from the hose attached to the water pouch on my back and resisted the urge to just leave the out-of-shape inmate behind. I could scale the cliff faster, but rear guard means rear guard.

Even the smallest of our scaly friends, a canid half the size of the others, was having no difficulty with the terrain, bounding from the top of one sulfur-coated column to the next one up. The light yellow of the palisade hadn't come into view until we'd gotten nearly two-thirds of the journey behind us, and it had soaked up what lead time we had on the sunrise. It didn't help that the rock formations had the bubbled-smooth surface of glass, either.

"Lyra…" my mate called. He'd nearly gotten to the top.

"_What?_"

"Get that ass _movin'!_"

_Shit. __**Shit!**__ Forget fuckin' rear guard!_

I passed the other man, climbing as fast as I could find foot- and hand-holds and _not_ looking behind me. As worried as Rick sounded, it had to be bad.

Ten meters remained between me and the top when the searing-hot light hit. Ducking into a shaded space behind a pillar, I reached for one hand-hold, then another, pulling my hand back immediately. The rocks had already become too hot to touch, even with the leather gloves Kyra had scrounged up. A rumbling noise reached my ears, and I slumped in defeat.

"Rick?"

(Riddick)

"I love you." Th' resignation in my woman's voice, an' th' tremor that tells me she's fightin' tears, rips at me. She thinks her luck's just run out.

_I __**refuse**__ t' lose ya, sugar. Ain't __**nothin'**__ gonna stand in my way._

Not even th' volatile temperature differential boilin' toward th' cliff.

"One speed," th' man Kyra calls Guv reminds me.

"_Not_ with _Lyra_," she snipes back without hesitation. She smacks him, lighter than I got her earlier. "Don't even _think_ about abandonin' her."

"Your rope. Gimme your rope." A plan comes together in my mind. Th' one pillar that stuck up half a meter higher than th' others in th' wall, th' lower ledge I saw while I was climbin'… "_And_ your water, all of it!" Th' kid doesn't even pause. "Now!" Th' other two convicts surrender their equipment reluctantly.

"Want us t' wait for ya?"

"No, Kyra." I start tyin' one end of th' longest rope. "Get t' th' hangar, stay in th' mountain's shadow." Th' scaly puppy slinks toward me, ears flattened an' tail between his legs. "Go with 'em. Anybody else is fair game," I tell him, givin' his head a rub. Then I turn back t' th' other three humans. "Run." Only th' girl moves. "_Go!_" Th' men finally obey me.

I pour what's left of th' three water packs over myself, makin' sure _everything_ gets wet. Then a quick guesstimate of how far down Lyra was when she got stuck, th' distance I needed t' reach th' lower break in th' cliff. Swallowin', I wrap th' rope around my hand an' take a deep breath.

_Here I come, baby, ready or not._

Burstin' from cover, I charge toward an' then past th' pillar, castin' th' loop over th' projection. Th' instant I reach th' limit of th' cable, I hurl myself over th' edge. Th' light an' th' heat bombard me as I extend my left arm.

(Kyra)

"Are you fuckin' _nuts_, Guv? Askin' Rick t' _leave_ Lyra t' _die?_" Thanks to the exercise she'd gotten in the Pit, scolding the older man as she ran didn't leave her short of breath at all. "_Shit_, they went through black hell just gettin' together in th' first place!"

"Wha… Whaddya mean?" he panted back at her.

"Ship crashed. Desert planet. Three suns. An eclipse that only happens once every twenty-two years. Echolocatin' damned flyin' carnivores starved for flesh. 'S when they met… an' when _I_ met 'em, too. Long story short, ya don't mess with Lyra anymore than ya mess with Riddick."

"_Riddick?_" He glanced back for a half-second. "You mean to tell me that's _Riddick_ back there?"

"Yeah, seven prior escapes didn't ring a bell? _Jesus_… Whatever ya do, _don't_ try t' separate 'em." With that, she bent all her attention to where she was going, trusting the couple that had become her siblings to get through, whatever it took.

(Lyra)

Being snatched out of the shadowed crevice shocked the hell out of me. But I knew the shape and strength of the arm around my waist and clung tightly. A moment of near-weightlessness, and then we tumbled along hot but still-shaded ground. I heard the leading edge of the temperature differential crash against the cliff like surf.

Steam rose from his skin as Rick stood and extended a hand toward me. I stifled a sob of relief and used the leverage to press a quick kiss to his lips before he could really react. He squeezed my hand in silent reply, then pushed me further away from the cliff. I took the hint and headed 'west'.

We'd nearly reached the last hill before the tarmac when the puppy charged us, closely followed by the kitten/cub. Each of us fondly ruffled a set of ears, then followed the pair to a crevice where Kyra, Guv, and the third convict—I didn't even know his name—crouched. The other creatures were either prowling around, their coats blending right into the rock, or draped over raised spots. Not high enough to be seen over the hill, though.

"I figure we got three, maybe four minutes before th' sun hits us, burns out this whole valley." My adopted sister pulled back her thick curls and tied them out of the way. She opened her mouth again, only to close it without a word at Rick's raised finger. The other two shot very wary looks at him.

"Hear that?" he asked. A distinctive thrum reached my ears. I wriggled up the slope on my belly, followed by both of them, and peeked over the crest. A sleek, dark ship rose into the air, having deposited a swarm of Necromongers that included the black-haired commander—helmet under his arm—the pale blond—as decked-out as he'd been in New Mecca—and three of the masked, hunched creatures. We slid back down the hill.

"Lemme guess," Kyra asked dryly when we'd rejoined the other men. "Necros?" I nodded. "_Damn_. I hate not bein' th' bad guys." She pulled another pistol from its spot at the small of her back and started to stand.

"Wait." My mate's command worked on her, but Guv and Whatshisname shifted restlessly. "Just wait."

"Ellen." The bearded man fiddled with his ring, as if checking that it was still there. "Her name was Ellen. I never really forgot."

"Then let's all get off this rock so ya c'n go find her, huh?" He smiled a bit at my encouragement. It seemed likely that he'd have a chance at an actual life once we freed ourselves.

Heavy footsteps came toward us, making my muscles tighten in anticipation of an attack. A metallic screech was accompanied, I presumed, by the opening of the hangar doors. The unseen soldiers paused, then changed direction as all hell broke loose.

"Kyra, remember that favorite game o' yours?" I grinned as Rick spoke. The two of them played frequently on the _Den_'s simulation system—a gift from the former sergeants who'd trained him, then me, and then Kyra in short bursts whenever we visited Icarus Station. Their scores were rather impressive, and their creativity gory, but interesting.

"'Who's Th' Better Killer?'" A broad, vicious grin stretched across both their faces.

"Let's play." They led the way, all five of us charging over the hill to smash into the Necromongers' rear flank. The armored men were so surprised that three died before they could react to the new threat. The fight became a blur; thrust, parry, sidestep, lunge, duck, kick… We barreled into the middle of the furball, leaving dead bodies in our wake. One step, one kill.

And our scaly friends took their own huge toll on the enemy. The hunched things went first, being the weakest foes. Swinging paws tore faceguards off helmets, their extended claws ravaging the exposed flesh. My sister linked hands with my partner, the spikes on her boots coming out as he swung her around. One went into a Necromonger's face, and Rick released her to kill someone else while Kyra freed her feet. A felinoid clamped its jaws down on a helmet in mid-leap, its velocity snapping the neck of the soldier that had begun approaching her from behind.

Suddenly, as my lover grappled hand-to-hand with a Necro, one of the enemy's odd guns discharged, hitting both men. Caught by less of the blast, Rick flew through the air, hitting the grooved runway like a rag doll. A canid slammed into the dark-haired commander who'd fired, darting away as the man it had toppled lunged toward it with incredible speed.

For a moment, I wondered who was screaming, then realized that the tormented sound came from my own mouth. My man struggled to get upright. A Necromonger took advantage of my distraction, tackling me. Having knocked my head against a stone, I slit his throat in a daze and wobbled toward the tarmac.

"So, you _can_ kneel." The soldier in charge, a gun in either hand, slowly approached Rick. Kyra burst from cover, crossing the runway and knifing two Necros as she passed them.

"Get up, Riddick, _get up!_" she urged. He rose further, knees still on the ground but the rest of him nearly vertical. I took another unsteady step, head spinning.

Everything appeared to slow, then stopped, people frozen in the middle of movements. Red-pink unfurled behind the commander and spread, fighters vanishing from sight as it covered them. The black-haired man seemed to morph into Shirah, who stepped closer to my mate.

"I think you know now." Her smile promised vengeance. "I think you know who tore Furya apart." Her hand covered her heart, starting to glow as it had during my dream so long ago; it felt like years had passed since then. "This mark carries the anger of an entire race. But it's going to hurt." Then she touched his chest, and the blue light spread from her handprint as Crematoria sprang back into existence around us.

Rick shook like a leaf in the wind as the visible energy illuminated the blood vessels under his skin. The Necromonger commander hesitated briefly, then took another step. Light erupted from my lover in an explosive wave, throwing armored men as much as ten meters.

Before I blacked out, I realized that the ornamented blond had barely reacted, putting up a hand and swaying as it passed him.

(Niklas)

He whistled internally as the young Riddick's use of the Wrath wreaked havoc on Vaako and his picked troops. The blazing white dwarf star at the center of the system crept further up the mountain. The rising temperature made _him_ uncomfortable, which meant that the soldiers were probably broiling in their armor.

The frigate arrived, warning system hooting as it hovered just behind the ridge on the 'west' side of the landing strip. Leading perhaps ten survivors, Vaako scrambled up the slope. The last two paused at the top, then dragged another person into the ship with them.

As soon as the vessel banked away, Niklas sprang into action, grabbing one of Riddick's arms to drag him into the shelter of the open hangar. To his surprise, a barely-weaned scale-wolf pup took hold of the massive man's other arm with gentle jaws, making the task much easier. A pair of adult spine-cats began moving the young Veruna woman, followed by a half-grown cub, while a massive scale-wolf—female, he believed—brought along a raggedly-dressed man. A mixed bag of a dozen more of the creatures followed.

Thank the Lady, both totem species had escaped their home-world's virtual destruction in enough numbers to have a bit of a gene pool. It seemed like a miracle. How many other native Furyan breeds survived?

Sure that the Alphas were safe from the extreme heat of the coming day, he closed the doors, leaving only a hand-width gap. Then Niklas began removing the symbols of his Necromonger rank.

(Lyra)

I awoke quickly, blinking at the stone ceiling. How had I gotten inside? A rumbling purr and a damp nose against my arm quickly answered my first thought. One of the felinoids sat at my side, front paws tucked under its chest as its tail tapped lightly against the floor.

On my other side, Rick snapped into consciousness, scrambling to his feet. I sat up more slowly to look around the hangar, noticing the narrow slit between the doors, the scaled animals lounging about, and the blond Necro standing at the undercutter's bow. Not a single sign of…

"Kyra." As usual, my mate's mind ran on a track parallel to my own. I stood, eyes on the stranger.

"I was supposed to deliver a message to you, if Vaako failed to kill you." A final piece of the ornate metal he'd worn joined its fellows on the ship's hull. "A message from the Lord Marshal himself. He tells you to stay away from Helion, stay away from _him_, and in return, you'll be hunted no more." His gray eyes gleamed wickedly to match his growing smirk. "But Vaako will most likely report that you are dead. So this is your chance. Your chance to do what no one has ever done."

Rick's hand shot out, grasping the much slighter man's shoulder. Between the pale skin going nearly white and the trembling of the almost delicate hand that he raised, I knew the man's collarbone could snap at any moment. But the Necro managed to open his coat and expose a section of his chest.

"We all began as something else."

An increasingly familiar handprint glowed over his heart, answered by the marks Shirah had given us. My lover released the other Furyan as abruptly as he'd taken hold of him. It took him a moment to regain some equilibrium.

"Th' girl." The blond turned to me attentively. "Where will they take her?" He sighed, eyes dropping.

"He will do to her what he tried to do to me."

_Shit. Dammit, sis, don't let them get to you. Don't give up._

An image of her, terribly pale, hair pulled back severely, green eyes clouded, and dressed in black flashed through my mind. One of my throwing knives slammed into a crate so hard that it rocked.

"Easy." Rick put an arm around me. "We got her outta here. New Mecca's a cakewalk." Shrugging off the attempt to calm me, I started pacing.

"Goddamn that fucker Toombs. He couldn't'a left th' _Den_ near here, so now _we_ can't beat 'em back t' Helion!" I didn't know if she could hold out for the month or so that the trip would take. And if my sister thought we'd died…

"The Necromonger in me warns you not to go back." I glared at the slender man, and he flashed a lopsided grin. "The Furyan in me hopes you won't listen." The ornamental dagger that had killed Irgun appeared in his hand, and he let it fall. "God knows, I've dreamed of it."

"Then why th' fuck haven't you _done_ something about it before now?" I snapped.

"Forgive me, my lady." He bowed his head. "I am only an Omega; Zhylaw would have swatted me like a fly if I had attempted a physical attack. And his preventative measures against poison are impenetrable. If what I have… overheard recently is true, my lord may be the _only_ person who can kill the Lord Marshal." The blond man turned his eyes to my mate.

"I'm nobody's fuckin' lord."

"Your father was the last Chief Alpha of the Pack Council, as close to royalty as our people come."

"History lesson can _wait_, boys," I cut in sharply. "Every minute we dick around here is another minute those Necros have t' work on Kyra." Rick grunted, turning toward the undercutter's hatch. The young canid that seemed so fond of him picked up the pierce-work blade and followed, tail wagging. Granted, we'd have to wait for sunset before we could actually launch, but my patience was hanging by a very thin thread.

"I've done… unbelievable things in the name of a faith that was never my own," the stranger murmured, hanging his head. A stirring near the tunnel doors drew both his attention and mine. "What are we to do with him?"

"Ohhhh, my head." Guv hauled himself upright with the help of a couple of crates, a spectacular bruise already forming on his temple.

(Guv)

As his head cleared, he looked around the hangar. Eighteen years since he'd been here, and it hadn't changed much aside from the contents. But that was the part that troubled him.

He hadn't expected any guards, but only three other humans shared the area with him. Lyra and Riddick were there, but Kyra wasn't. And if they'd been willing to get caught and brought to Crematoria to find her, they wouldn't have left her outside.

And if these Necros were hunting them, why was one with them and not bleeding onto the floor?

The hellhounds, at least, hadn't taken any casualties. They sprawled over crates and across the floor, one even on top of the small spacecraft. Another kept one of his legs pinned underneath a forepaw.

"I hate bloody concussions." His tongue felt thick as he spoke, garbling his words a bit. But Ceryll didn't try to stand just yet, because he didn't want to sick up all over the floor. "So damned confused."

"Get used t' it," Riddick growled. "Fuckin' Necros turnin' everythin' sideways. Gotta mess with everyone else instead of mindin' their own damned business."

"Indeed," the pale, lean man in the black coat replied. "They claim they are saving all humanity from themselves as they destroy everything in their path. Zhylaw must be stopped."

"I said _later_." The woman Ceryll knew only as Lyra hefted a crate and headed for the undercutter. "Stock th' damn ship, _then_ you c'n talk about history an' what we're gonna do when we get t' Helion Prime." The stranger gave her a slight bow before turning to open a different container and inspect the contents.

"Ellen… She had family there, last I knew, might have been living with them." Would she have moved on with her life, found someone else? Or would she still be waiting for him to get out?

"Once we've taken care of business, I'd be willin' t' help you find her. If she survived th' invasion." The woman reemerged without her previous burden, gently pushing away a juvenile hellhound with apparently enthusiastic friendly intentions. "Sit tight for now. Don't want you aggravatin' that concussion an' makin' it worse."

With a nod, he leaned back against the wall, carefully observing the other three. This was bound to be interesting, and the mention of history intrigued him. What did the Necromonger have in common with the couple to make them allies, even if it seemed to be an uncomfortable alliance at present?

He liked puzzles, and this looked to be a complicated one.


	9. Chapter 9

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima, _maxima _culpa. Yeah, I'm almost two months late delivering this. I will say that I was sick for a while with a miserable head cold; and when I'm sick, the creative spirit goes right out of me. Hopefully, this final chapter is worth the wait. I _might_ do a ficlet or two set after this, but nothing major until after the new movie comes out - which, by the way, Vin says Universal has really stepped up for the movie, with it being difficult to do an R-rated movie in the industry right now. But from what he's said on his Facebook page, I suspect the movie will be out next year. ^^ I can hardly wait.

So sit back, relax, enjoy the chapter, and send me a review when you're done!

**Sight Unseen**

A _Chronicles of Riddick_ Alternate Universe

**Chapter Nine**

Basilica

(Vaako)

He knelt on the steps before the Lord Marshal's throne in his new armor. The promotion alone was enough to rattle his nerves, but the formal, public elevation made it worse. Only sheer willpower kept his inner shakes from showing.

"I have lost a Purifier, but I have gained a First Among Commanders." Zhylaw's voice boomed through the massive hall. "It _is_ overdue, isn't it, Lord Vaako, that we acknowledge your many accomplishments, your steady faith, and above all, your unflinching loyalty." The lavishly sculpted and gilded helm was extended toward him, and Kyrus raised his hands and eyes to accept it.

"Obedience without question. Loyalty 'til Underverse come." The ritual response to any military promotion rolled off his tongue without a thought. But he had plenty of questions these days…

"Well done, Vaako. This is a day of days." The Lord Marshal swept past him, trailed by two of his ever-silent concubines. As the rest of the audience left, he stood, quickly joined by his wife.

"Look more _pleased_, Vaako." She plucked the helmet from his hands to examine the decorations. "_You_ have killed his enemy… _and_ his suspicions."

"I should have brought back their heads." It nagged at him, this feeling that the dwarf star's effects hadn't burned the pair to a crisp, as he'd assumed at the time. And the girl they'd taken prisoner just before entering the ship still fought conversion with everything she had, even after the month-long journey.

"You saw them unbreathing, you saw them both _dead_ on the ground."

"Riddick was no common breeder!" Nor was the woman, though he wouldn't grind Zinna's nose in that. "In a heartbeat, he dropped _twenty_ of my men." He'd never seen anything like the blue shockwave before, which came close to scary… Not an easy feat for a Necromonger veteran like him.

"All mysteries are _not_ miracles, not even in this religion." Zinna visibly calmed herself. "If you _say_ it is certain, then it _is_ certain. And we've already said it, haven't we?"

"We have," Kyrus snarled as he took his new helm from her and stalked off.

Icarus Station

(Marcus)

He paced slowly across the living room and back, feeling the eyes of five-year-old Alexis on him. Slowly, because Chillingsworth's damned drugs still hadn't entirely left his system. Marcus cursed the dead psychopath with every breath.

He'd seen the report of Jacquelyn's capture, recognizing her face despite the single name given in the report: 'Kyra.' It had to be a pseudonym, created to protect her legal identity. And Lady knew mercs didn't give a shit about running a payday's DNA to check and make sure they had the right person, not as long as the appearance matched their target.

Every time he saw the young woman, she looked more like Nalia, and he was sure that Jack was his niece. She'd even taken to calling him 'Uncle Marcus.' It helped, knowing that he wasn't the only surviving member of the Crested Eagle Pack.

Finding more Furyans would be an even greater relief. But Eileen still felt that someone was watching, waiting for searches to pop up in cyberspace relating to their race. They couldn't afford to lose her or the Riddick scion.

And that was what really worried him at the moment. He could sense that something huge was happening with the pair of Prime Alphas, and prayed to the Lady that they would prevail. That they came through whole and hale.

_Please, Lady, keep them safe._

Helion Prime

(Aereon)

The door ground open, letting light and fresh air into her cell, and Aereon idly blew on her fingers, watching them go translucent.

"Tell me it's true." Ah, Zhylaw, the arrogant fool. "Tell me the Furyan and his woman are gone, and I can close this campaign without hearing their bootsteps." At least he'd decided to acknowledge that the slim female posed as much of a threat to him as her mate did.

"If they are dead, I sense I am not far from the same fate, being of no further use here. Shouldn't I tell you that Riddick is still alive?" The odds said he was, along with the young Seer.

"Don't try me, Aereon. I could plow you under with the rest of Helion Prime."

_Threats, threats. Testy today, aren't you, Zhylaw?_

"No one _really_ knows the future."

"Then tell me the odds." The vile creature's voice grew heated and angry. "That Vaako met with success, that _I_ will now be the one who can carry His people across the Threshold and into the Underverse, where they shall begin _true_ life. Tell me what I want to hear, Aereon, and maybe I'll save your homeworld… for last." The Elemental tensed, thinking of her family.

"The odds are good."

"That?" the Lord Marshal prompted.

"That you will reach the Underverse." She heard him turn and begin to leave. "Soon." He paused for a second, and then she was left in darkness again.

(Ziza)

The black dress was hot under the bright sun of Helion Prime, but she wore it anyway. Mama had explained that the color told others that she missed her Papa. And she missed him terribly.

Mama was carrying a basket with the few bits of food they'd managed to get at market today. Ziza followed close behind, looking all around in case any of the nasty, mean soldiers were near. If Riddick and Eileen had been around, she wouldn't be worried, but they weren't.

As Mama went into the house, she noticed something shiny on the broken front door.

Papa's talisman hung from the dull brass handle.

_They're back!_ As she took hold of the chain and lifted it, Ziza glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the pair.

Riddick and Eileen would take care of those awful strangers.

(Zhylaw)

"Ascension protocol," he demanded the moment he reached the bridge. Aereon's last word had been suspiciously smug.

"We still have numbers out there, Lord Marshal." A soldier approached him. "Sweep teams, recon ships. They would be hard pressed to make it ba—" With the monumental strength of his Half-Dead soul, he threw the man across the chamber to slam into a wall and crumple.

"Get my armada off the ground!"

Added to his fear of Riddick—something he'd never admit to—was a fear of what the woman would do if she was, as he suspected, also Furyan. If Riddick had died and she survived… He'd seen what Furyan females could do in grief and rage when their mates were killed.

(Dame Vaako)

The sirens recalling all Necromongers to their ships startled her, and Dame Zinna Vaako joined the crowd rushing up the Basilica's steps. Usually, at least an hour's warning was given for Ascension, so that all the Faithful could avoid the holocaust of the Icons.

_What is going on?_

Near the top of the stairs, a soldier rudely struck her shoulder as he passed, and another brushed against her other side. Shocked, she tried to spot the pair in the throng; no Necromonger warrior would breach etiquette in such a manner, even now. She pushed men aside as she searched.

Then they looked back at her, mirroring each other's stance despite the differences in height and build. Silver orbs gleamed in the otherwise dark helms, and she gasped. A clump of soldiers passed in front of her, and the pair vanished.

She had to tell Kyrus about this. Immediately.

(Niklas)

He couldn't help the fidgeting as he sat in the undercutter's command couch, wondering what the pair of Prime Alphas were doing. They'd included him in their planning, of course—he knew the Basilica's layout as well as he knew the back of his own hand—but the ancient Law of Murphy still applied. However, each time Niklas decided to get up and _do_ something, either the scale-wolf cub or the spine-cat kit was there to demand attention and rumble soothingly at him.

As an additional incentive to stay put, the dominant female and her mate had laid down so they blocked the hatch.

He wanted to see their vengeance unleashed on Zhylaw, wanted to be witness it first-hand.

"What are they, really?" The question from the surviving convict startled him. He'd almost forgotten the man's presence. "We always called them hellhounds, but there's obviously two different species."

So he found himself explaining Furyan totems to this near-stranger. It took his mind off Lord Riddick and Lady Eileen—she'd trusted him enough to give him the name she'd used all her life—for a while, as the conversation expanded into other aspects of Furyan society. The 'Guv' showed genuine curiosity toward the subject, pleasing the teacher in Niklas' Omega nature.

Soon, his mind all but forgot about the Alphas and the danger they'd headed into.

(Vaako)

"You mean on Helion." He prayed that his wife was mistaken.

"I mean _here_, on this very ship!" She spoke in a low, frightened hiss.

"Could you be wrong?" Vaako demanded, grabbing her arm as she paced and forcing her to look him in the eye. "The mind fabricates fear. Could you be _wrong?_"

"Not so wrong as _you_ when you left them alive." Zinna wrenched free of his hold. "It's _twice_ the mistake; not only your failure, but now, the report of success! How do we salvage this? How? _How?_"

"The Lord Marshal's got to be warned." He turned to leave.

"You will _never_ see the Underverse!" That stopped Kyrus in his tracks, and he looked back at her. "He will kill us _both_ before our due time." Then she paused thoughtfully. "I say we give them their chance. If they are_ half_ of what you think, they could at least wound the Lord Marshal. And _that_ is when you must act."

"Just to take his place." He frowned. "Just to keep what I kill." The thought did not satisfy him as it once might have.

"That _is_ the Necromonger way."

"It is not _enough!_" His control over his temper nearly snapped. To cheat someone of a kill that rightfully belonged to them…

"Then you do it for the faith!" Her hands came up to stroke his jaw. "If he has fear, he has weakness. If he has weakness, Vaako…"

"… he is unworthy of lordship." Why hadn't he thought of that before?

"We do it for all Necromongers."

"Protect the faith." It would have to sustain him through the next few hours. However long it took to finish this.

"This can still be a day of days," Zinna murmured, echoing Zhylaw's earlier words. "But the timing _must_ be flawless."

(Zhylaw)

"Final Protocol." He watched Helion Prime recede on the massive viewing globe set in the floor. "Execute on my order."

"My Lord!" A shipboard patrol leader saluted as the other two members of the patrol hauled in a limp body. "We found this Lensor, dead." The corpse landed on its side, the throat a dark, gaping maw that had been cut almost to its spine.

"Show me his last sights." The destruction of the planet would have to be put on hold for the moment, if someone on the Basilica was killing Lensors. A cable quickly connected the body to the main viewer.

The Lensor and its handler had been in one of the ship's many smaller corridors, its heat-sensitive vision casting everything in normal, cool blues and greens. Two armored figures walked by, one much shorter than the other, both radiating warm yellows and oranges. Breeders, masquerading as his troops!

The pair looked at each other and then lunged, the smaller one going straight for the Lensor with a long blade against its forearm. The second flashed by, presumably after the handler. For just a moment, he could see both intruders' silvery eyes, then the display filled with snow as the Lensor had died.

"Commander Toal…" Zhylaw struggled to keep his voice level and calm-sounding. Vaako had either lied to him or been deceived; Riddick and his female still lived, and they had come for him.

"They won't escape twice." The dark-skinned commander saluted before leaving the bridge. He hoped the man was right. Otherwise, he'd have to face and kill them himself.

And _that_ worried him.

(Lyra/Eileen)

Niklas Agnar had been able to give us a detailed route to the Quasi-Dead Grotto that kept us away from the majority of the massive ship's traffic, and once we got to the back room, my lover made entry simple. One knife planted in a Quasi-Dead's chest made its pod rotate into the hexagonal room, and we climbed over it. I began shedding pieces of our purloined armor immediately; we hadn't found a patrol with anyone close to my height, so I'd been acutely uncomfortable. Rick kept some of his on, as I had ceded the right to fight Zhylaw personally to him. The man had killed Rick's mother with his own hands and torn him from her womb.

As we crouched behind the doors, I stole a brief, fierce kiss. One of his eyebrows arched in curiosity.

"For luck." That got me a small, lopsided smile. Then our attention turned to what we could see through the pierce-work doors. Beyond the two soldiers guarding the entrance, a line of hooded, black-clad women passed.

My mate slid a stolen blade across one bracer, creating a soft, shimmering chime that would be difficult to ignore. On the second stroke, the guards shifted a bit. The third made them turn, and I drove a knife into one's face. We flung the doors wide, and Rick took three long steps before leaping at the throne. A foot on its back propelled him farther and even higher. As I hopped up to crouch on one of its arms, I saw him drop right on top of the Lord Marshal… and go right past him, sliding across the floor.

"Stay your weapons!" Zhylaw held up a hand, and the warriors who'd just started to move froze. "He came for me." His focus narrowed on the convict climbing to his feet, and I could practically sense him utterly dismissing my presence at his back. "Consider this: If you fall here, now, you'll never rise. But if you choose another way, the Necromonger way, you'll die in due time, and rise again in the Underverse." He held out his left arm and was joined by one of the shrouded females. She turned her head slightly as he pulled away the hood.

I drew a sharp breath, recognizing the brief glimpse of profile.

_He has my sister._

"Go to him, child." As she moved toward Rick, I could see none of Jack usual exuberance and zest for life, nor even Kyra's stubborn focus, in the stiff, groomed creature. Her beautiful, riotous curls had been straightened, the hair laying down her spine like straw, and her slightly golden skin was an ashy white.

And beyond that fundamental wrongness, I remembered what the former Chief Purifier had told us about conversion. The marks on her neck blended into her skintone, rather than being inflamed as Niklas said a new convert's marks should be. And it looked like something was peeling just a tiny bit near one of the puckers.

"It hurts, at first." No emotion colored the brunette's voice as she approached my lover. "But after a while, the pain goes away, just as they promise."

"Are you with me, Kyra?" He shot me a troubled glance over her shoulder. Apparently, even as limited as his color vision was, he could tell there was something majorly wrong with her from the front.

"There's a moment when you can almost see the Underverse through his eyes," the shell of my adopted sister continued blithely. "He makes it sound perfect, a place where anyone can start over."

"Are you _with me_, Kyra?" Rather than answering, she glided past him and disappeared into the crowd. Carefully avoiding the bladed column next to me, I dropped to the floor and slipped between the gathering Necromongers, intent on finding her.

"Convert now, or fall forever." Zhylaw's voice boomed in the hall. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something scathing about the ultimatum.

"You would kill everything I know." Suddenly, most of the people around me gasped, and I peered between two soldiers for a glimpse of what had happened. The Lord Marshal appeared to have been knocked back by something, half-turned with a knee on the steps up to the dais. He stood slowly and deliberately, the pierce-work dagger in his hand and a line of blood along his cheek. Zhylaw looked at the blade.

(Vaako)

He stepped toward the railing, only for Zinna's hand to grab his arm.

"Not yet," she warned. True… the injury appeared to be little more than a scratch.

(Riddick)

"It's been a long time since I saw my own blood." I smirk inside at my enemy's admission; the bastard probably won't be consciously defendin' his own weaknesses. Th' hand holdin' th' knife motions th' soldiers back t' make room for a fight, then drops th' blade.

I barely glimpse th' man's flat, colorless image rushin' at me before a blow throws me back against somethin' big an' solid. Prob'ly one of th' fuckin' columns all over this damned place. Need t' watch for that. I stand back up, a little unsteady, an' get hit with one punch after another as th' gray blur surrounds me. Manage to block one fist, but th' next catches me so hard I see stars.

Th' shadow goes over me, an' I spin, half on reflex, leadin' with a backhand. Th' Necromonger pauses long enough for me t' see that th' near-miss was a surprise, then accelerates again. But now I c'n make out th' man's shape in th' haze of his speed, an' more of his hits meet my blocks.

(Lyra/Eileen)

I'd nearly managed to catch up to Kyra when my mate was thrown to the floor. He didn't try to get up immediately, which worried me. But instead of pouncing, the Lord Marshal decided to gloat.

"_These_ are his last moments!" I watched him strut around, showing off his freaky abilities by raising one arm of his soul, then the other, and letting the flesh follow a moment later. Zhylaw knelt next to his foe and reached out. "Give me your soul!"

My throat seized up as a grayscale version of Rick's face emerged, and the palmprint on my breast flared into intense pain. But the image only went a dozen centimeters or so, the Necromonger struggling with it for a moment before it snapped back where it belonged.

"_Fuck you!_" My lover's roar came with a beautiful uppercut to the bastard's chin that threw him a good five meters. The first real, solid hit the Lord Marshal had taken. The moment he landed, though, his half-dead soul zipped up onto the shoulder of a colossus, where he appropriated the spear that the statue had held to its own ear.

Glimpsing my sister out of the corner of my eye, I moved closer to her and the dais. Most of my attention, though, stayed on the fight. Zhylaw returned to the floor, swinging at his opponent. But his newly-acquired weapon kept missing until Rick caught a jab with his elbows. He held on to the spear just long enough to try to backhand the madman. The blow missed, freeing the brassy length enough for the freak to spin it around, landing a solid strike across his enemy's shoulders.

The Furyan rolled and barely managed a crouch before the spear-point drove toward his stomach. He caught hold of it in time to keep it from piercing his purloined armor. Zhylaw then used it to lift my mate and propel him halfway across the room. Suddenly, he pulled the point away and used the other end like a bat before my mate touched the floor. Over a meter broke off as Rick ended up sprawled near the dais, the rest of the spear casually discarded.

I heard metal wrench and break, but ignored it. The Lord Marshal took a spiked staff from a nearby warrior before he knelt. The shaft was pulled across my lover's throat.

"You're not the one to bring me down." Kyra moved out of the crowd, stooping to grab the sharpened end of the abandoned metal. The moment I realized what she meant to do, I headed for her at a run.

The point drove into the small of Zhylaw's back, and he roared in pain. The staff fell from his hands, relinquishing his hold on Rick to turn and backhand my adopted sister, launching her into the air… right toward one of the blade-studded columns flanking the throne.

"_No!_" The denial ripping itself out of my throat, I jumped, using every gram of energy I had. My arms locked around the younger woman's waist, turning us enough to let me aim my feet at the potentially deadly decoration. Pain tore up my left calf as I hit and pushed off. We tumbled onto the dais, and, winded and hurting, I watched the end of the fight.

My mate grabbed the forgotten pierce-work blade as he distanced himself from the maniac. Said maniac yanked the spear-point out of his flesh. A killing anger radiated from both men.

"Now!" I glanced up to see the coffee-skinned bitch on a balcony above as the man I could now name as Vaako vaulted the second-level railing, holding a triple-headed poleaxe. "Kill the beast while he's wounded!"

"Help me, Vaako." The Lord Marshal struggled to get his feet under him. "Kill him." The polearm rose above the other Necromonger's head. "Vaako?"

"Forgive me," the dark-haired commander whispered. His eyes closed as he brought the weapon down.

Zhylaw's ghostly image came forward, running away from his treacherous subordinate. He headed for the discarded spear tip, but Rick got there first, his boot keeping it on the floor. Body and soul alike wore a shocked, distressed expression.

"Flawless." The self-satisfied statement from the woman who'd directed the Necromonger commander was premature. The Lord Marshal's physical form slid away from Vaako, the pale man's blade ringing as it hit the floor. My lover slammed the ornamental knife through the top of the madman's skull as he materialized, the force behind the blow turning his head to the side as the hilt snapped off.

Enemy eliminated, he rushed to my side, ignoring the dismayed howl of Vaako's bitch. Rick began tearing strips from my sister's dress to bind the matching cuts on my leg and Jack's. I sought out the peeling I'd noticed earlier and picked at it.

A moment later, the entire 'conversion scar' came off in my hand, revealing unblemished skin.

"They didn't get her." My whisper brought one corner of my mate's lips up.

"Now, what would be the odds of that?" The sudden appearance of the Elemental drew a glare from me.

"Shut up." The eerie stereo of Rick's bass voice and my own mezzo-soprano made Aereon step back, blinking. I looked back down at my sister, who had begun to return to the land of the living.

"Are you with me, Kyra?" Her eyelids fluttered as my lover spoke.

"Wh… where are you?" she muttered. "Where am _I?_" She opened those green peepers, only to snap them shut again. "Ugh. Who th' _fuck_ dosed me, an' what'd they use?" I chuckled faintly and squeezed Jack's shoulders, glad to hear the sass in her words.

Vaako approached us, still holding that three-headed poleaxe as the other soldiers made way for him. Rick and I both stiffened, expecting an attack. Instead, the Necromonger dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Others around him copied the action. Soon, every person in the hall but the Elemental had knelt, and I realized why.

"You keep what you kill." I covered the new Lord Marshal's hand with my own as his shoulders slumped wearily. "All hail Lord Riddick," I whispered into the silence.

"_All hail Lord Riddick!_" The cry resonated through the hall, voiced by hundreds, maybe thousands, of throats.

_Aw, hell,_ I thought. _**Now **__what?_

**End**


End file.
